


home

by vonseal



Series: magic users [4]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magic, Romance, Violence, heavier stuff than the others pls read with caution???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-02-02 20:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 85,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: A house was a structure, somewhere with four walls and a roof and furniture. A home was a feeling, an emotion. It was love and happiness and warmth.Myungjun had become Jinwoo's home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Myungjun would allow it, then Jinwoo would be selfish. He would love Myungjun, and he would let himself be loved right back in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so we begin the final(?) installment of _witchcraft_. a quick warning for you guys:
> 
>  **heavier subjects will be covered throughout this fic; particularly with the first chapter, honestly. the chapter does have sexual implications, as well as emotional manipulation that _involve_ implied sexual acts.** if any of this makes you uncomfortable, _please_ do not read the first chapter of this fic. the others will focus less on this topic, and while many of the earlier chapters will have difficult topics, i do hold the opinion that the first chapter is probably the heaviest of all of them.
> 
> and please, if any of this doesn't sit right with you, i am definitely open to suggestions! if enough people hate this, or think it's not right to put in a fic, i will certainly take it down and reevaluate the direction of this sequel.
> 
> love you all, and i hope everyone enjoys as we come back to the couple who started _witchcraft!_

“ _No one will ever love you like I do.”_

Those were words that Jinwoo had heard plenty of before. Those were words that had been spoken constantly, over and over, until it was but a mantra in Jinwoo's mind, a chant his brain would not cease as he cried himself to sleep some nights. He hated them with his entire being. They filled him with a hot rage, his blood boiling at the mere thought.

Because he knew it was true. Those words were true.

That's what he hated most of all. It bothered him only because it was realistic and spoken without a single speck of falsehood.

Sometimes he would respond. Usually it was with a hushed, “I know,” as he allowed kisses to continue down his neck, as he allowed a hand to slither up his shirt and run along his skin. Sometimes, though, he would remain quiet. He would test his limits, until dark eyes peered back up at him, visible only from a dim lamp on the bedside table, and Jinwoo would swallow thickly.

“No one will ever love you like I do.” The words would repeat then, and Jinwoo would watch as the man before him spoke slowly, with a thinly veiled threat laying underneath them. “Because who else in their right mind would _ever_ love a filthy witch?”

Jinwoo's mouth would go dry, and he would nod his head. His lips would remain tightly closed and he would avert his gaze, eyes downcast.

And then Doyun would continue, removing Jinwoo's clothes and having his way with him.

In a way, he supposed he should have been more grateful. After all, he was given a place to stay and a relationship that he assumed was similar to that of other couples. If not for Doyun, he would still be out on the streets, making potions when he was able and surviving off the measly price he charged his buyers. It had been enough to buy him dinner for most nights, and he would usually sleep in whatever spot was available to him, be it a bench in the park or the ground in an alleyway.

Doyun changed all of that, however, when he met Jinwoo.

He was a magic user as well. Not nearly as hated and looked down upon as Jinwoo was, but he still knew what being lonely was like. He could control fire, which was what drew Jinwoo all the closer to him. He made fire dance in his fingers, made sparks float in the air beside him, and Jinwoo watched with fascination as this man played with a flame that others would run from.

Doyun had noticed him and had smiled warmly. “Is it interesting?” he had asked.

Jinwoo nodded his head, and Doyun extinguished the element and quickly walked over to him.

“Normal people don't think that my abilities are interesting,” the older male had mumbled. “So, then, what are _you?_ ”

There was something Jinwoo found trustworthy and comforting about Doyun, and he had blurted out his secret with very little regard. “Witch.”

Doyun looked taken back, but he quickly cleared his expression and smiled brightly instead. “A witch? You might want to be careful with who you tell that to, kid.”

Jinwoo knew that. Jinwoo knew he was an idiot. He cleared his throat and nodded his head again.

“Where do you live?” Doyun asked, and the conversation was light enough that, once more, Jinwoo had no issue in responding.

“Wherever I'm able to.”

And Doyun had taken him in.

“No one else would ever accept a witch,” was what Doyun told him the very first night, as Jinwoo set up a small spot on the couch to curl up on. “I think you should remember that.”

Jinwoo assured him that he would, and he felt pleased with his life finally. Doyun didn't kick him out, nor did Doyun seem to want him to leave. He was fed and clothed and had decided that _this_ must be what true friendship was like.

“You're very lucky,” Doyun would tell him sometimes during the quiet moments, “that you were found by someone like me. See, I'll cherish you. Would anyone else cherish you?”

Jinwoo would shake his head. “No,” he would respond, and Doyun would smile, as if pleased that Jinwoo had given him the correct answer.

Jinwoo's first kiss had been with Doyun. He hadn't wanted to. In fact, as Doyun had leaned in closer, Jinwoo had stumbled backwards. His legs hit the couch and he fell down into the seat, staring up at the man with wide eyes.

“Really?” Doyun questioned, his voice hushed. He stood over Jinwoo, a towering force, and Jinwoo gnawed at his bottom lip. “The only time anyone will ever _want_ to kiss you, and you're acting like this?” When Jinwoo didn't answer, Doyun continued, “After everything I've ever done, you're repaying me by acting as if you're too good for me, right?”

“That's not-”

“I might be a magic user, but I just control fire. That's as far as my magic extends. _You_ are a witch, though. You're below me in every single way, and I really don't think you have the right to refuse me of anything.” Doyun sat himself down on the couch. Jinwoo tried to keep his eyes averted. “Do you, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo took a deep breath before shaking his head. “No.”

“So then why are you behaving like you do?”

Jinwoo wasn't sure _why_. But, as he let his guard down and allowed Doyun's lips to press harshly into his, he decided it was because he had no feelings for the older man. The kiss was his first, and yet it meant practically nothing. It wasn't as breathtaking and as magical as everything and everyone had made it out to be, and by the time Doyun finally drew back, Jinwoo felt disgusted with himself.

Even more so when Doyun's hands started to trail down his sides and grip at the bottom of his shirt.

“Wait-” Jinwoo struggled away from Doyun, but the man held him tightly. “I-I-I think this should probably be done with-with someone you love, I don't think-”

“This is the only love you'll ever get, Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo felt like someone was suffocating him. The hand on his waist rubbed at the skin behind the fabric of his t-shirt, and soon enough, he felt a thumb dip underneath. It was the first time he had been touched in a such way. He found that he didn't quite enjoy it like he thought he would have.

Doyun's words replayed in his mind. _The only love you'll ever get_. He was certain it was the truth. After all, Doyun had said as such with confidence, and his face never once betrayed any sort of lie behind the words. And it _was_ true, wasn't it? Doyun had told him as much when they first met. _No one else will cherish you the way I do_. No one else ever had, and no one else ever would.

His shirt had come off suddenly. Doyun pulled it up harshly over his head, and Jinwoo stiffened when he was face to face with the magic user once more. “Doyun, I don't-”

“I won't continue if you don't consent,” Doyun mumbled, his words sweet, and he leaned in close to place a kiss on Jinwoo's cheek. “I'm a nice guy, Jinwoo. I'm the only person who will treat you with this sort of respect. You're nothing to everyone else. You're a witch. You're better off dead, aren't you?” His lips trailed across Jinwoo's jaw, hot and heavy breath on his skin. “And, yet, here I am, giving you shelter and clothes and food. You'd be stupid to deny me.”

Jinwoo would be dumb. If he rejected Doyun's advances, he might find himself on the street again. At least, that was how he understood Doyun's stern words, understood the hidden threat laying underneath, and so he finally nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. His breath hitched. “Okay.”

So he _gave_ consent, he told himself as he lay in bed that night, bruised and sore and sniffling quietly to himself. He _said_ okay. He brought it all upon himself. He deserved the pain that sex seemed to bring. He _deserved_ it.

But Jinwoo still felt gross. He felt like he had done something wrong. He could hardly see through the tears that had welled up in his eyes, but he stared at Doyun's back.

Doyun had turned almost instantly after he was done. He offered no more affection; instead, he had mumbled, “Good night, Jinwoo,” and Jinwoo hadn't responded.

He wondered, if he had, would Doyun actually hug him close? He wondered, if he had, would Doyun treat him with actual love, instead of...this? Whatever _this_ was, it didn't feel very much like love. And Doyun might claim to be loving him, to be cherishing him, but it made Jinwoo feel dirty.

Perhaps, he had thought, that was just what love was supposed to feel like. At least, maybe it was for a witch. He didn't deserve better.

He wiped away his tears by himself that night and buried his face in the pillow.

Life continued in such a manner. He said _okay_ to Doyun, regardless of what the question was. Because, as Doyun told him, this was as good as his life would ever get. He might as well accept what Doyun offered to him, and what he could offer to Doyun, because this was as cherished as a witch would ever be. Doyun was doing him a _favor_. Doyun was kind and caring and sweet. He always made sure Jinwoo agreed to anything before continuing onward.

“Suck me off,” Doyun had whispered one night, breath heavy against Jinwoo's ear. He pushed up against Jinwoo, and the younger boy shifted uncomfortably.

Jinwoo didn't respond, but his own movement stilled. Doyun took notice.

“What's wrong?” Doyun pulled his head back and looked down at Jinwoo. “Do you not want to?”

A wave of relief washed over Jinwoo, and he shook his head quickly. “Not...not really. Can we just do the usual?” He had grown accustomed to sex; that wasn't to say he had grown to _like_ it, but he said _okay_ and went through the motions. New stuff, stuff like _this_ , was too different.

“I told you before, if you're uncomfortable, we don't have to.” Doyun smoothed Jinwoo's bangs down and sighed. “I respect you, Jinwoo. That makes me different from everyone else in the world, doesn't it? Who else would respect the demands of a witch?”

He paused, and Jinwoo knew he was waiting for a reply. “No one,” Jinwoo murmured.

Doyun nodded his head. “Exactly. No one else would respect you in the way I do. Nor would they bring you inside and risk their own life and well-being in order to keep you safe. Just like I am.”

Jinwoo's relief was vanquished, replaced instead by a heavy feeling of guilt.

“I'm risking everything in order to house you here, Jinwoo.” A hand ran down Jinwoo's bare chest. “And I respect you, but I _do_ wish you showed me more gratitude.”

All was silent, save for Jinwoo's harsh breathing. Doyun stared at him, his eyes searching for an answer that Jinwoo knew he longed to hear-

“Okay,” Jinwoo said.

And Doyun grinned, pushing Jinwoo's head down, sending him to his knees. “You're so sweet, Jinwoo. Thank you.”

When Doyun finished, Jinwoo was left with nothing but the image of his back. He wasn't sure why Doyun never faced him at night. He wasn't sure why he was left alone to try and pick up the pieces of himself, to try and regain a little bit of the dignity he still had left. He felt dirty and used on the nights when Doyun turned away from him.

He felt like a toy. He didn't feel like the second half of a loving relationship.

Jinwoo stared for a little while longer, wondering just what he should do. As Doyun had always told him before, he didn't deserve more than the bare minimum. He only deserved what was offered to him. However, he _wanted_ more. A selfish desire pricked at his heart; he wanted Doyun to face him. And he wanted to tell Doyun to face him.

“Doyun?” he blurted out in a whisper, bringing a hand out to shake Doyun's shoulder. He had never before asked for cuddles after sex, for _affection_ after sex, but he needed it. His heart hurt too much. “Doyun-”

“Jinwoo, I'm tired. Let me sleep.”

“You can sleep, it's...can you look at me, though? Can we sleep together?”

Doyun groaned and rolled over. Jinwoo held his breath, wondering if, for once, Doyun would show him what Jinwoo assumed love truly was-

And then Doyun gave his head a small pat. “You're silly, Jinwoo. This is about as much love as I have to give a witch. Do you _really_ want me to treat you like my most cherished object? Is that it? Like how the boy treats the girl in those movies? That's not reality – not for a witch, anyway.” He pinched Jinwoo's cheek and smiled. “Accept what I've given you. That's all you deserve.”

And then he turned away again.

Jinwoo felt sick to his stomach, and when he was certain Doyun was fast asleep, he hurried up and rushed over to the bathroom. He tried to vomit, but nothing would come, save for his own retching and gagging.

He brushed his teeth afterwards, frantically and vigorously, until he began to sob. It was difficult to continue despite his tears, but he scrubbed as hard as he could, adding on more and more toothpaste. He couldn't get the taste of Doyun out of his mouth.

Jinwoo finally had to give up. He was certain there was nothing else he could do, and he decided that he probably deserved it, anyway, for allowing himself to say yes. Instead, he rinsed his mouth once more and moved to sit on the toilet seat, shaking and biting down on his fist, keeping his cries to a minimum in order to not wake Doyun. His only form of comfort was what he could create himself, and so Jinwoo wrapped his arms around his knees and dipped his head down on top of them.

He hated everything.

Doyun found him asleep on the bathroom floor the next morning. Nothing was said between them, and things continued as they were.

“I'm the best you'll ever have,” Doyun would always tell him. “There's nothing out there for a witch like yourself. I'm kind to you, aren't I?”

He was. He was very kind, Jinwoo decided. He was probably the kindest person on the planet.

Even so, Jinwoo grew to hate him.

He tried to tell himself it wasn't right to hate someone who treated him as Doyun did. It really _was_ the most devotion someone had ever given to him. But the feelings reared up before he could put a stop to them. Whenever Doyun touched him or kissed him or took him to bed, Jinwoo felt nothing but hatred in his heart.

The more he stared at Doyun's bare back, the harder it became to trust his words and statements.

And, finally, he packed a bag one day. He stored away only the bare minimum. None of it had been _his_ anyway; Doyun always made certain, whenever he bought anything in Jinwoo's size, “You might wear it, but I was the one who paid for it, so remember that, Jinwoo.” Therefore, he only grabbed the necessities.

He told Doyun he was leaving. Doyun just laughed.

“Really? You're going to go out there and deal with everyone wanting you dead? You're going to go out there and deal with being homeless and unloved? No one cares about you, Jinwoo, and you _really_ think you can go out there and face that?”

“I can,” was the simple response Jinwoo gave.

Doyun lost his smile and stared at Jinwoo for a few seconds before snorting and waving his hand. “Then go. Just remember that no one will ever love you like I do, you selfish brat.”

He wasn't homeless for too long. He left that town, crossing over two or three others before finding a part-time job as a cashier. It had given him enough money to find an apartment, and a roommate who could handle his plants and his mysterious past. No questions had been asked from the roommate, save for, “Will you pay rent on time?”

They tolerated each other. It wasn't a friendship, not by any stretch of the word. Perhaps it would have been nice to have a friend, but Jinwoo didn't feel as if he deserved one. He was a witch, and witches didn't have friends.

But then he met Myungjun.

From the few people he sold potions to, word had spread about a necromancer who would charge to bring back plants. Jinwoo had always been notoriously bad at taking care of his own flowers and herbs, and after a spell gone wrong, he needed _someone_ to fix it all for him.

Myungjun was handsome and bright and optimistic.

Myungjun was loud and full of jokes and laughed easily.

Myungjun figured out he was a witch.

Jinwoo had longed to keep it hidden. He figured people might treat him neutrally if they just thought he was a regular human, but Myungjun somehow managed to figure it out.

And then he did nothing with that information.

He never treated Jinwoo differently. He still flirted and teased, and Jinwoo fell in love. Jinwoo realized, too, that _this_ was how love actually was. This was what had been missing from his time spent with Doyun. He had never been in love with Doyun, and he recognized that, but there was a clear difference from how Doyun treated him to how Myungjun treated him.

Myungjun actually loved him. Jinwoo could feel it with every kiss and every touch. Myungjun breathed it, too, over and over again, etching it against Jinwoo's skin, etching it straight into Jinwoo's heart.

It wasn't _no one will ever love you like I do_. It was _I've never loved anyone like I love you_.

Jinwoo stared up at the ceiling, his forehead covered with sweat and the sheets tangled up around his legs. Myungjun lay beside him, quiet for a few seconds before suddenly turning over.

Jinwoo glanced and saw Myungjun's bare back.

He _knew_ Myungjun loved him. Myungjun had made it clear enough multiple times, and Jinwoo understood, too, that Myungjun's love was real and wholesome. However, staring at his back was too familiar. It was a sight Jinwoo hoped he wouldn't have to see again.

He felt like he was out of breath. His lungs felt like they couldn't gather in any air, and his hand tentatively reached out. Not Myungjun, too – he knew all along Doyun's love had been something _different_ from love, but if Myungjun turned his back, as well, perhaps he deserved nothing at all. Perhaps he _was_ just a witch; not Jinwoo, just a witch. If Myungjun thought that, the one person Jinwoo loved with his entire being, Jinwoo wasn't sure _how_ he could go on. It sounded melodramatic, even to his own ears, but living a life devoid of love meant he would live a life filled with despair.

And the despair would become worse if Myungjun, of all people, didn't love him.

He felt desperate – panicked – and he blurted out Myungjun's name, as he had done to Doyun so many years ago.

“Myungjun!”

His voice was hoarse, but he paid it no mind and grabbed a hold of Myungjun's arm.

Myungjun turned his head first. “What?” he asked.

Jinwoo blinked, and even in the darkness of the room, he noticed that Myungjun had simply been pulling on his underwear once again. His hands were still around the waistband, too, but he released the fabric when he seemed to catch sight of Jinwoo's fear. “Jinjin, what's the matter? What happened? Did you get hurt – did I do something wrong?”

He had fully turned at this point, eyes frantically searching for answers. “Jinjin, what's wrong?”

Jinwoo realized then that he was crying. He released Myungjun's arm and touched at his own cheeks, feeling the wetness that had begun to spread down his skin.

He felt so stupid, and he shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“It's not _nothing_ , not when you're crying like that.” Myungjun scooted closer to him, planting a kiss on his chin. “It was my first time – did I mess up, Jinjin?”

“Y-You'd never mess up,” Jinwoo whispered.

“Don't bet on that. I'm clumsy as hell.”

Jinwoo gave a small chuckle, but he still felt an ache in his heart. Myungjun noticed it, too, probably evident from the way his chin quivered and from the way his eyebrows furrowed together. “Jinwoo...”

“It wasn't my first time,” he mumbled.

Myungjun nodded his head. “I know. It's okay.”

“It...it was so much better this time, though.” Jinwoo had been nervous to try anything at first with Myungjun, but Myungjun had taken it all slow. Myungjun had kissed him lovingly and softly, different from Doyun's harsh lips. Myungjun had asked questions throughout, ensuring that things were going smoothly and both of them were still comfortable, different from Doyun's mindset of _take take take_. Myungjun had made the experience more enjoyable than Jinwoo had thought was possible. It hadn't been _just sex_. It was a testament of love, of the bond between Myungjun and himself, and Jinwoo had never felt more affection for someone than he felt for Myungjun. “You actually love me,” he whispered. “God, Myungjun, you _love me._ ” Jinwoo couldn't bare to look up at Myungjun, so instead he focused his attention on Myungjun's chest. He placed a hand there, letting his fingers make small circles in the skin. “My first...my first time was with the only person who cared for me. I was seventeen, I think.”

He left out minor details; otherwise, he told Myungjun the whole story. Maybe because Myungjun was trustworthy, or maybe because Myungjun loved him, or maybe just because Myungjun deserved to know.

Maybe all of the above.

He tried to detach himself from his past as he spoke. He pretended none of it actually had affected him. Obviously, though, Myungjun saw right through that from the tears that continued to prickle at Jinwoo's eyelashes.

The story finished and the room was quiet again. Myungjun continued to stare, but Jinwoo blinked rapidly, trying not to cry, and kept his eyes downcast.

“I was stupid,” he murmured.

“No.” It was a quick response, and Myungjun kissed Jinwoo's cheek again. When Jinwoo spared a glance up towards him, Myungjun's jaw was tight and he bit down on his lip. “You're not stupid. You're not. He was just a manipulative bastard. He doesn't deserve you.”

Jinwoo curled into Myungjun's embrace. “I had thought,” he started, “that my life wouldn't get any better than _that_. I had thought that was the only love anyone would ever offer me.” His words were muffled as he pressed his lips against Myungjun's shoulder, and he squeezed his eyes shut, the tears dripping from them once again. “I didn't realize how amazing love could-could truly be, Myungjun. I didn't realize someone else would ever actually _care_ about me. I didn't-”

Myungjun interrupted him with a soft and gentle kiss, displaying his affection without having to utter a single word.

And Jinwoo melted into it.

When Myungjun drew back, their noses still touched. Myungjun nuzzled his against Jinwoo's skin. “If I ever do anything you don't like,” he murmured, “you need to let me know. Don't settle for less, Jinwoo. You deserve everything good in this world.”

Jinwoo swallowed thickly. He wanted to agree and go along with what Myungjun said, and yet- “I feel selfish. I just want to be happy, though, and you make me happy. Is this selfish of me to actually want someone to love and care for me?”

“Sure it is,” Myungjun responded, then he whispered, “And that means I'm equally selfish.” He kissed Jinwoo again. “Mm, let's be selfish together. Let's love each other forever, alright?”

If Myungjun would allow it, then Jinwoo would be selfish. He would love Myungjun, and he would let himself be loved right back in return.

Doyun was right; no one would ever 'love' him like _that_ again. From now on, he would remain with Myungjun, where he felt truly at peace and at home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN, i do apologize if you did not appreciate it. please come talk to me??? about it and i will definitely listen and take everything into consideration. hmu on my tumblr [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) to express any comments!
> 
> i'm hoping to update weekly / bi-weekly. it might be bi-weekly until i finish finals (i have a lot of it written out, but i don't want to get ahead of myself), and then i might switch over to weekly with the more time i have to write this.
> 
> i need to give a HUGE amount of thanks to [@parkjinchu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/pseuds/parkjinchu) who has been helping me throughout this entire process. she's given me advice and inspiration and her amazing editing skills, and i honestly thank her from the bottom of my heart. she's an amazing author who deserves way more attention than she currently gets - please check her out!!!
> 
> i hope you guys did enjoy, and im sorry the first chapter is kind of a downer; it'll start looking up!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was quiet inside the apartment. Jinwoo could hear the city moving still outside, car horns honking and tires braking along the road. It was the white noise he had grown used to, though now it was suddenly loud and ringing in his ears, and all he wanted was to push his head up to Myungjun's chest and focus solely on his heartbeat.
> 
> So he did that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i've decided that i'll update this whenever a new chapter has been written! i mean it sounds like it should make sense, but rn im at chapter 6, and i want to stay five paces ahead of how im updating A03!!!
> 
> i hope you'll enjoy the second chapter!
> 
> (it's still sad)

_Home_.

Home was a strange word for Jinwoo. He often heard people describe the difference between a _house_ and a _home_.

A house was a structure. A house was four walls and a roof and a doorway and maybe some furniture inside. A house simply _stored_ things and people, away from the harsh reality of the outside, away from the bitter cold or the scorching heat, away from the storms and the rain. Some houses had driveways with nice cars, with fences and gates to keep unwanted visitors away. Other houses were less ornate, with gravel pathways, while the houses in the city were bunched together, squished, suffocating.

Jinwoo understood completely what a _house_ was. However, his intelligence withered away when faced with describing a _home_.

A home was supposed to be different from a house. A home was supposed to be a place of love. A home was supposed to be where families could gather together at the end of the day. They would sit around a table and talk and laugh, enjoying a meal that had been lovingly cooked by someone in the household. And, at night, they would give each other hugs and kisses and bid each other _good night_. They would curl up in warm beds, a content feeling settling somewhere deep within their heart, and when they would awaken the next morning, the process would begin all over again.

It sounded lovely.

It sounded unattainable.

He didn't have fantastic memory of life before he was six, but he recognized the fact that, at age six, everything was different. He took a trip with his mother one day. She wanted to see her sister, she claimed. She dropped him off, promising to return.

It had taken him two weeks to realize she wasn't going to come back.

But where he stayed was never _home_. It was a house. It was four walls and a roof. It had furniture. It was shelter for him. And that was all it ever amounted to. Jinwoo never saw the house as his _home_. There was no reason to; he wasn't loved.

He couldn't remember if his mother loved him or not. He supposed she didn't, dropping him off to live with his aunt where endless torment awaited him. He was ignored or neglected most days. But those were the good days. Other times, his cousins would bully him, following their own, personal goal to turn his life into a living hell. His uncle would join in, as well, treating Jinwoo as if he was some sort of savage beast, hitting him harshly when he made a mistake, or else throwing his food on the ground when it was time to eat. So, when Jinwoo was able, he would hole himself up in the basement, the area he slept in, on the old couch his aunt pulled out for him and on the threadbare blankets that were passed down through _other_ family members before finding their way to Jinwoo. He would read books he gathered from school. Jinwoo liked the long books. The longer the book, the longer it would keep him away from the terrible reality he lived in.

People always described their _homes_ in the books he read. The earlier books held pictures, beautiful drawings of happy families that Jinwoo would run his little fingers over and try to imagine himself in such a situation. He tried to imagine a life where he wasn't bruised from punches, where he had toys and stuffed animals, where love and affection were delivered freely.

These were things that were not available to witches, apparently.

He learned as such in school. As he hunkered down in his desk in the back, brushing his dark hair past his eyebrows (and wondering if his aunt would be upset with him if he asked for a haircut), the teacher described magic users – specifically, witches.

Magic users were bad. He was aware of this fact. Witches were the _worst_ , though, so said the teacher. Witches belonged in the hands of the government, where they could test them and equip themselves better to fight off _other_ witches. Witches had to be eradicated from the world in some form or another.

“But,” a young student asked, raising her hand, “can't anyone be a witch?”

The teacher agreed and nodded her head. “It's not passed down genetically – not that we know of. It's something that only appears in children after the age of six.”

The students looked around at each other in fear, and the teacher smiled warmly. “None of you are witches. You would be aware of it by this point. Witches are very rare, anyway, so it's likely none of you will ever meet a witch.”

Everyone sighed in relief. Jinwoo gnawed at his lip and kept his eyes downcast.

His cousins were never allowed to tell anyone that he was a witch. His aunt had forbid it, explaining to them that they would _all_ be in trouble for housing a witch in their house. That didn't stop them, though, from spreading the lie that he was able to levitate himself and other objects. A _Floater_ , they called him. Soon enough, children were warned to stay away, parents and teachers fearful that Jinwoo would cause them to levitate. He wasn't certain what harm he could even cause with those powers. All he knew at his young age was that he had no one to play with.

The children would all travel home with each other. Jinwoo had to walk with his cousins. They kept him a considerable distance behind them, as they didn't want to be associated with a magic user. Often times, they would threaten him and tell him to stay behind at the school building.

Jinwoo would do as they wished, because at least being alone in the middle of the night near the empty schoolhouse was better than going to _his_ house.

He was in trouble when he did return; he was in charge of cleaning, after all, as his aunt told him that cleaning was all he would ever be good for, and disappearing on them when dishes needed to be washed and the floor needed to be swept was enough to warrant him an early bedtime with no dinner. His cousins would snicker as he was sent down to the basement.

The basement had one light bulb that hung from the ceiling. Usually, Jinwoo had to push up a chair to turn it on. He couldn't reach it himself, not with his short legs. It didn't offer much light, but Jinwoo would use it anyway to read his books.

He had one stuffed animal he loved and cherished dearly. It was his only companion in his times of intense loneliness. He would talk to it late at night, when everyone else was in bed and asleep. He would tell it fantastical stories of what life would be like if he could have a family, like the families he would read about in his books. He would tell it that he wouldn't even _need_ a stuffed animal if he had someone to cuddle with at night when it stormed, or if he had someone to give him kisses when the kids at school would throw rocks at him.

His cousins burned the stuffed animal, stealing his uncle's lighter and setting it ablaze. They laughed as Jinwoo cried. When he was finally released from their tight grasp, all that remained were ashes.

He had to vacuum them up.

Life wasn't much better outside of that house. He thought it _would_ have been. He thought that if he was away from the endless torment of his cousins and the uncaring negligence of his aunt and uncle, then maybe life would actually take a turn for the better. Away from them, he could find friends, find people who would love him just as he had always wanted.

But a house, despite its shortcomings as a home, at least had four walls and a roof and furniture. At least he had a blanket and a couch to sleep on, however uncomfortable it had been. At least he had gotten food when his aunt decided he was allowed to eat the leftovers of whatever her sons had already gotten to. Outside, with no house to return to, he was left to face that bitter cold and that scorching heat.

He decided he would rather take the heat. He didn't like the cold. It tore through his clothes; his jacket was hardly useful, what with how thin and threadbare it had become. When it snowed, each flake felt like a bullet piercing into his skin, and he would curl in on himself, tightly positioned under a bench to hide himself from the elements, to try and keep the cold away.

With the heat, Jinwoo thought, he could look forward to the evening, when a light breeze would always cool him down. Wintertime never seemed hopeful.

It was why he had been drawn to Doyun in the first place, drawn to the fire in his hands and the passion in his eyes. His voice had held little warmth, always reminiscent of the cold days that Jinwoo would spent outside. But at least he was _inside_. At least he had a house and clothes to wear and food to eat.

Sometimes, though, he would rather be back at his aunt's house, where his skin was no stranger to bruises inflicted upon him by his cousins. Sometimes, too, he would rather be outside again, facing the weather by his lonesome, kicking rats off his feet in the middle of the night when he was unable to afford a room. Because while he had a house with Doyun, it felt even less of a home than it had ever felt before. It was distant and painful, and Jinwoo realized he had deluded himself into thinking that Doyun held any sort of emotional attachment to him.

It was purely physical. He was purely for Doyun's enjoyment and benefit.

That wasn't what a _home_ was supposed to make him feel like. A home was supposed to make him feel affection and adoration. It was supposed to be inviting and welcoming, somewhere Jinwoo could head to at the end of the day with a skip in his step.

He convinced himself one night, staring at Doyun's naked back, that perhaps a witch didn't belong to a home. Perhaps witches were undeserving of anything pleasant the world had to offer. Perhaps he should simply accept what his future would hold, even if it involved exclusion and pain.

It would be better than grasping onto a false hope, wouldn't it?

Sharing a house with Myungjun had been different than any experience from his past.

The first night, Myungjun had showed him to Minhyuk's room.

“I don't want to take over his spot,” Jinwoo nervously admitted, setting his box down on the floor and staring at what Myungjun was offering. The room was cleaner than what Jinwoo had already seen of the house, though even _here_ , like everywhere else, there were plenty of potted plants scattered around.

“He sleeps on the couch,” Myungjun assured. “So this room isn't usually _used_. Here-” Myungjun turned on the light and gestured about. It was small, but Myungjun's apartment was small, in general. “You can put your clothes in his closet over there. Just try to separate them as best you can from his. Or if you have underwear and socks, they can go in that bottom drawer, since I don't think he uses it. And it might get chilly at night sometimes, so we have more blankets in _my_ room. If you wake up and you're cold, you can just come and I'll show you where they are.” The necromancer leaned up against the doorway. “Or,” he added, and when Jinwoo glanced over, he wore a sultry expression, “I know plenty of other ways to get warm.”

“I'll take the blankets,” Jinwoo requested, and he laughed at Myungjun's indignant expression.

Here, in Myungjun's place, he had a bed and blankets. He had access to a shower, which was free to him at any time he wished. He wasn't forced to constantly clean up after everyone else had gone to bed, though he tried to do so as often as possible to make up for his lack of payment for rent.

Myungjun and Minhyuk always seemed happy to see him, as well; whenever he came home, or whenever they came home, they would greet each other warmly, and it was something _weird_ , something _odd_.

He was given free reign of the kitchen, too, though he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong by taking food.

“Minhyuk?” he asked one day, holding a peach in his hands. “Can I eat this?”

Myungjun was away, drinking with Bin and Dongmin, and his only instructions had been, “Don't burn the house down, you scoundrels.” He hadn't said anything about food.

Minhyuk glanced up at him, and his eyes darted over to the peach. “I guess,” he murmured.

It didn't seem like a direct answer. Jinwoo sat down on the couch beside him, fixated on the fruit in his hands. “Are you _sure?_ ”

“It's a peach, Jinwoo.”

“I'll pay you back for it.”

“You...what?” Minhyuk snorted and shoved Jinwoo's shoulder. “Since when do you need to give payment to eat a peach at the home you _live_ in?”

Jinwoo didn't respond. He remembered asking Doyun for food, for something small and simple. He didn't like the favors he had to do to get food from Doyun. It was worse than begging out on the streets and worse than eating the leftover scraps of his cousins' meals.

But here, Myungjun and Minhyuk didn't seem to want _anything_ from him. Maybe someone to share a good movie with, or someone to hug after a long day of work, but they never asked for more.

Jinwoo felt choked up as he bit into his peach. Either Minhyuk didn't notice or he just didn't want to impede on Jinwoo's quiet remembrance. Instead, the younger boy simply went back to watching the television.

Jinwoo wondered if all young people these days watched the news reports for fun. He voiced his curiosity, and Minhyuk laughed.

“I have my own personal reasons. Most of which involve making sure Myungjun didn't do something stupid and use his magic where everyone could have seen him use it.” He shrugged. “I guess now I have to watch after you, as well.”

“I already screwed it up once,” Jinwoo admitted. “They played it on the news.”

“Your death?” Minhyuk waited for Jinwoo to give a noise of confirmation, and he sighed loudly. “ _God_ , it's like they didn't have anything better to talk about. I mean, an explosion could have happened, and thousands of people could have died, and these assholes would still be bringing up that someone killed a witch.”

Jinwoo ate his peach; his mouth was full, so he didn't try to talk. He just nodded his head.

“And, honestly, if they took five seconds to get to know you, they'd realize that you actually _suck_ at being a witch. You can just do these stupid, small spells-”

“I think I'm pretty good!” Jinwoo retorted. “I mean, I work with what I have. I never really had a chance to use my powers when I was younger.” He chewed at the peach thoughtfully. “I think Myungjun is better than me at using his magic because he actually practiced it.”

Minhyuk had no response to that. He simply snorted and leaned back into the couch, his unwavering eyes fixated solely on the evening news.

Jinwoo was finishing off his peach when he heard the first report of a _witch_. He slowed his eating and paid close attention to the small television, anticipating the repeated report on his death and the ramifications of having a witch in the vicinity.

It followed the usual; a dangerous witch was killed by two young college students. It was self-defense, the news report claimed.

(“Are they defending their flowers?” Minhyuk mumbled.

“Shut up and let me listen to it, Minhyuk.”)

It ended with pictures of the two boys, smiling and cheerful, shaking hands with the police chief. A reward had been given to them for killing, as the news anchor put it, “such a dangerous creature.” Jinwoo, despite his earlier jokes, felt sick all of a sudden as he gazed upon the jubilant expressions of everyone involved with his own death. The peach was no longer delicious, and he didn't think his stomach could take anything else.

Minhyuk sighed as the news finished for the evening, and he grabbed the remote to switch the television off.

“The reward part is new,” Jinwoo commented.

“Yeah.”

He remembered the horror of being killed. He remembered laying in a pool of his own blood, unable to move, his mind slipping in and out of consciousness. He remembered _knowing_ that he had the power to heal himself, but he was unable to gather the energy to do so. He remembered the pain, the searing, awful pain that erupted in his chest and spread through his entire body as he bled out.

Mostly, though, he remembered the tears streaked down Myungjun's face and the desperate cries the older boy had given as he was forced to sit back and watch Jinwoo suffer until death finally took him.

He felt short of breath all of a sudden. The memories had hit him harshly, and he realized that _everyone_ wanted him dead. A handful of people – Myungjun and Minhyuk, mostly – still loved him and still cared for him, but everyone else in the world would celebrate his death, just as people in the city were doing right then. They talked as if they had slayed a monstrous beast.

(His uncle called him a beast. His uncle would swat at him with books and newspapers and whatever else he had on hand. His uncle would call him a filthy animal. Maybe his uncle wasn't far from the mark.)

“Jinwoo?” Minhyuk's voice was quiet. “Are you okay?”

Jinwoo nodded his head frantically, but he couldn't erase the fear from his face quick enough. Minhyuk caught on quite easily, and he frowned as he scooted closer to Jinwoo.

“Want me to go kill those kids for you?” he asked. “Because I will. I won't even hesitate.”

Jinwoo shook his head then, and he gave a bitter chuckle. “It'd be useless at this point,” he responded. “Besides, I think you'd be the next bad guy if you killed them.”

“I'm used to being a bad guy. I mean, look at who I chose for my best friend. Myungjun exists, and everyone else in the whole world hates me because of that.” He was leaning into Jinwoo now, trying to make the movement casual. “Hey, Jinwoo?”

“Hm?”

“This sounds so fucking sappy, but I'm really happy you're alive.”

And then Jinwoo cried.

Minhyuk didn't say a word as Jinwoo's body wracked with grief, as his shoulders shook to repress the sobs. He squeezed his eyes shut, though he was unable to stop the tears spilling forth from them, and he rested his head onto Minhyuk's shoulder, burying his face into the fabric of his shirt.

He wanted to apologize, but he wasn't able to get any words out. Minhyuk seemed to notice, though, and he settled them both into the couch, curled in on each other under the soft glow of the living room lamp, the shadows of Myungjun's plants cast across the wall beside them. Jinwoo let his peach fall to the ground – he would pick it up later, when he could find the energy and will to move from his position. For now, however, he would allow himself the chance to be sad and the chance to cry loudly.

He fell asleep sometime later. His tears wore him out, and soon he was using Minhyuk not as an object of comfort, but as a pillow, and as a bed, and as a friend who would hold him up while sleep's embrace took him over.

The only reason he woke was because he felt someone else on his other side, leaning into him.

Jinwoo blinked his eyes open. They hurt from so much crying, and they took a while to adjust to the darkness of the room, but he managed to finally look around properly.

Minhyuk was also asleep, mouth open and lightly snoring, an arm still hooked around Jinwoo's shoulder. Minhyuk wasn't the cause of his sudden awakening, though, and so Jinwoo turned to his other side.

Myungjun.

Myungjun was plastered up against him, sniffling slightly and holding on tightly to Jinwoo's shirt. He smelled of the earth, of soil and of sweet flowers, and a faint scent of alcohol still hung in his breath. He hiccuped once, then buried himself further into Jinwoo's body.

“Myungjun?” Jinwoo's voice was hoarse.

Myungjun glanced up at him in shock, then drew back. “You're awake?” he whispered. “Did I wake you?”

Jinwoo chose not to answer that. He simply moved Minhyuk away from him, letting him sleep against one of the couch pillows instead. He could properly face his boyfriend this way, properly assess the situation and learn the reasoning behind _Myungjun's_ tears.

Myungjun got to him first, though.

“Were you crying?”

“No.” Jinwoo's reply was instant, and he quickly wiped at his face in an effort to rid himself of the tears he knew were still smeared across his cheeks. “I just...”

It was quiet inside the apartment. Jinwoo could hear the city moving still outside, car horns honking and tires braking along the road. It was the white noise he had grown used to, though now it was suddenly loud and ringing in his ears, and all he wanted was to push his head up to Myungjun's chest and focus solely on his heartbeat.

So he did that.

Myungjun didn't question it. Myungjun wrapped his arms around Jinwoo's body and planted kiss after kiss onto his head.

“Was it the news report?” Myungjun whispered.

Jinwoo closed his eyes again. He located the spot on Myungjun's chest where his heart beat loudest, and he gently placed his lips there, feeling Myungjun's warmth through his jacket.

The lack of an answer was all Myungjun needed to sigh, sadness lacing the tone. “Jinwoo-”

“It's alright,” Jinwoo murmured. “I think I'm used to it at this point.”

He was used to being hated and treated as a dangerous monster. He was used to being tossed aside and taken advantage of. He was used to pain and suffering.

He wasn't used to _this,_ though. He wasn't used to someone holding him tightly in comfort, to someone showering him with all the love and affection in the world, to feeling as if he was truly _home_.

Jinwoo never wanted to leave. He wanted to remain in Myungjun's embrace for as long as he possibly could.

“Jinwoo?”

“Hm?”

“Let's go somewhere.”

Jinwoo looked up. Myungjun seemed conflicted. Worry shone through his gaze, and yet his lips twitched upwards in a small smile, a stark contrast to the crying Myungjun that had arrived home from Dongmin's. “What?”

“Let's go somewhere,” Myungjun repeated. He thread his fingers in with Jinwoo's, and his thumb rubbed along Jinwoo's skin. “Dongmin told me...Dongmin told me I should go somewhere with you. Let's get away from all of this. Let's get away from everything, just for a few days. Maybe a week. I have somewhere we can stay. It'll be nice, and we won't be _here_ , Jinwoo. We won't be in Boryeong anymore, we'll be somewhere else and no one will talk of witches or death or rewards.”

“The bakery-”

“I got it,” Minhyuk suddenly mumbled, and Jinwoo shot up in his seat, scrambling away from the younger boy in a panic.

“What the _hell_ , Minhyuk?” he hissed. “Were you awake this whole time?”

Minhyuk's reply was a thumbs-up, though he didn't move from his position curled up into one of the couch cushions. Myungjun, oddly enough, seemed used to the intrusion; he simply rolled his eyes and stood up, gesturing for Jinwoo to follow him. “Let's go to bed, Jinwoo,” he murmured. “We'll discuss it later, if you'd like, but I think...maybe if you agree, we can pack in the morning and we can just leave. It won't take that long, I just want to...be somewhere else, somewhere we can turn on the television and nothing is going on, and somewhere we can sleep without those nightmares.”

He liked the idea, and he realized that while the apartment had already become his _home_ , while he found joy and love in everything Myungjun stored around the small space, he would feel just as comfortable elsewhere – as long as he had Myungjun to turn to and to love on.

He waited until they were in bed, until Myungjun was placing slow, languid kisses down his chest, to give his answer.

“I'll go anywhere with you, Myungjun.”

Myungjun's eyes glanced up at Jinwoo; in the dark, with only the streetlamp outside to shower light upon them, his eyes sparkled with happiness and joy, and yet there was something else there; anticipation, regret, fear.

Jinwoo pulled him closer, bringing Myungjun back up to the pillows, and rest his forehead into Myungjun's. Myungjun responded to the affection quickly, wrapping his limbs around Jinwoo's body and hugging him. “Are you sure we'll be okay?” he asked. “It's been a while since I left home.”

“Wherever we go, we'll be okay,” Jinwoo whispered, “because wherever we go, we'll always be home.”

A house was a structure, somewhere with four walls and a roof and furniture. A home was a feeling, an emotion. It was love and happiness and warmth.

Myungjun had become Jinwoo's home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO WHO KNOWS when the next chapter will be out, considering i have loads of essays and projects to work on (four or five, end of the year is fun) and thanksgiving is coming up and i'll be away from my PC for two nights.
> 
> regardless, thank you for reading, and keep up to date with me at my tumblr [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinwoo wondered, sometimes, what Myungjun thought about in those quiet moments. He wondered if he remembered his own past, or if he, like Jinwoo, tried to store it away and think only of the present, and of the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh with you guys, i didnt want to post this until i finish chapter seven, BUT I WILL FINISH TWO CHAPTERS THIS WEEK, SO FRET NOT!!! then, hopefully, it will continue to be updated weekly!!!

Jinwoo could easily divide his life up into four distinct categories.

The first was still somewhat of a mystery. His memories were fuzzy of the time before he was six years of age; any possible _good_ events, any good thoughts, had already been completely destroyed by the treatment he received later in life. He sometimes liked to think that his parents had loved him, that they named him fondly and kissed away his tears. He liked to imagine being held in their arms, or maybe being tucked into bed late at night, warm smiles on their faces as they turned off his light and closed the door.

Basically, anything he saw or read from _actual_ loving families, he would attribute to his own life, because if he couldn't actually remember, he might as well devise a story to follow along with.

The second part of his life was filled with bruises and tears. He wasn't quite certain when the bullying began. Sometime after his mother left with him his aunt, sometime after he accidentally unveiled his powers.

His aunt was the one who first called him a witch, after he managed to make their rice cooker explode with a flick of his wrist. It terrified his cousins – it terrified _Jinwoo_ , who sought reassurance that he wasn't bad or evil and was met with nothing but cries of, “you damn witch!”

But they kept him in the house, at least. His uncle moved him out of his cousins' room, down into the basement. “I don't want this creature near _my_ sons,” he snapped to his wife when she questioned if Jinwoo would be too cold or scared on his own.

As he got a little older, he realized he was probably better off staying away from his cousins. They tortured him relentlessly; any chance they had to punch him or kick him or ruin something of his, they would take it.

He learned that he couldn't complain, either. His aunt would tell her sons to stay away from Jinwoo, for their own protection. His uncle would egg them on, however, detailing the horrors of witches, explaining that witches were better off dead.

One of his teachers seemed to notice his bruised and beaten state at one point. She was nice. Jinwoo could only remember her fondly. He had cherished the bandages she had given him, the ones with trains or cartoon characters scattered across the glossy sheen of the front. Even after he had used them, as bloodied and damaged as they were, he would stick them on his couch-bed somewhere. Those bandages were the only thing he had from someone who cared for him. He wanted to keep them forever, to hold onto them as long as he could. On those rough days when his cousins were especially cruel and his uncle especially uncaring, Jinwoo would cry silently and keep his small fingers over top of the bandages, trying to remind himself that _someone_ cared.

It was short-lasting, though. The teacher left at the end of the school year, and, once again, Jinwoo was alone in the world.

The third part of his life was brought on unexpectedly, by one of his cousins informing the school that Jinwoo was, in fact, a witch. He hadn't known anything at first, but he wondered why the schoolchildren screamed when he walked past them.

“I told everyone you're a witch,” his oldest cousin proclaimed that evening, after Jinwoo had taken his shower.

Jinwoo rolled his eyes and simply continued to dry his hair, rubbing a towel into his short, black locks. His cousin, obviously ecstatic to explain himself, snatched the towel away. Jinwoo couldn't grab it back.

“I _said_ ,” his cousin snapped, “I told everyone that you're a fucking witch!”

His tone was gleeful and there was mirth in his eyes. Jinwoo stared up at him, trying not to showcase fear, before he swallowed thickly. “You didn't.”

“I did.”

Jinwoo bit down on his bottom lip. There was no falsehood in his cousin's voice. Jinwoo had come to learn when his cousin was lying; this didn't seem like one of those times. He didn't escalate the situation, nor did he embellish any of the events. “We were talking about witches, about how filthy and _gross_ they are-” As if trying to prove his example, he reached out and tugged Jinwoo's hair. Jinwoo struggled to get back, his eyes watering as his cousin shoved him into the wall.

“Stop it-!” he cried out.

The older boy simply laughed and continued with his story, “And I told them I know the most disgusting and ugly witch of _all_ the witches. He's a monster whose own parents hated him and dumped him in our house, and we keep him around because he makes a fantastic _pet_.” His cousin kicked him suddenly, his leg connecting with Jinwoo's shin. Jinwoo fell over, grabbing his leg in pain and attempting to keep his tears in check. He needn't cry in front of any of his family members. They relished in his tears.

His cousin glanced around, ensuring they were the only two people in the hallway, and then he bent down, mouth turned up in a wide smile. “Jonghyun is going to call the police soon.”

“Shut up.”

“And they're going to come get you.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I hope they fucking burn you at the stake, like they do to all of the other witches out there.”

The older boy laughed, slapping Jinwoo once across his face before straightening up and seeming quite pleased of what he had done.

Jinwoo hadn't believed him at first. He had held onto hope that his cousins were heeding his aunt's warnings. She didn't want to be revealed to have a witch in her house, she always stated. She didn't want their entire family under scrutiny for Jinwoo's existence.

(“Why do you keep him, then?” his uncle asked one night, loud voice booming into the kitchen where Jinwoo mopped up the floor.

“He's a child. I can't toss him out.”

“He's not a child. He's a _witch_.” His uncle snorted. “Don't tell me you're growing soft on him.”

“He might be a witch, but he's _still_ a young boy. He won't survive if I abandon him! I'm not going to kill a child, and so until he's old enough to leave, he'll just stay here. As long as we don't tell anyone, it will be fine.”)

Unfortunately, his cousin _had_ told, and so Jinwoo, at twelve years old, found himself on the streets, ushered out of the back window by his panicked aunt as the policeman banged fists on the front door.

And so began the third portion of his life – arguably the worst portion of his life.

Jinwoo no longer had a home. He no longer had family. He no longer had any shred of happiness to call his own; not the bandages that were plastered onto that couch he called his bed, not the short-lived, dirty stuffed animal he had found and cradled in his arms at night, not the books he would take home from school. Nothing.

It was the first time he had traveled, too. He originally wasn't willing to spend the precious money he _did_ have to change his location. But life in that city became dreadful and horrid. The only place he could sleep at night, away from the scrutiny of others, was in a small alleyway, behind the dumpster so the patrolling cops wouldn't spot him. Rats would crawl about, and he often found himself jolting up from his sleep in order to kick one or two of the rodents off of him. The daytime brought less comfort, as he begged out on the streets, offering, to a few shady people, to perform a spell for them in exchange for food.

He had hoped another city would offer him something better, and so he left, spending all of his money on a one-way train ticket and getting off at the stop with the least amount of people.

Doyun came in a few years later. Jinwoo had gotten so used to surviving off what his small spells and potions would earn him, and he had gotten used to going to bed with a growling stomach and shaking hands. Doyun gave him the chance to experience life in a different manner, and Jinwoo took it without considering the consequences. And he had a house and food (more often than not) and clean clothes, but it wasn't at all what he had hoped. Because he viewed the third portion of his life, his teenage years, as his most miserable, he had to include Doyun. In hindsight, he would rather have continued facing rats and lice and disease instead of being treated as an object for Doyun to use whenever he so pleased.

The fourth period of his life, he decided, was going to be the last period of his life. He would stay with Myungjun until he died, for better or for worse. He sometimes felt that he would never get used to his boyfriend, to his contagious laughter or his sparkling eyes or that wide smile that pulled back his plump, pink lips.

“Have you ever traveled before?” Myungjun asked as he packed away his final bag into the trunk of the car.

Jinwoo glanced down at the keys in his hand. “Once with my mom,” he murmured. “Once to leave my aunt's house. Once to find Doyun. Once _away_ from Doyun. And then a few places here and there until I felt I was far enough away from all my troubles.” He looked up and found that Myungjun's grin had disappeared, and he instead stared at Jinwoo with a nervous gaze.

He hadn't meant to make it sad, and so he quickly added on, “Never on a _trip_ , I guess. It was always to escape something or...or someone.”

That didn't seem to make Myungjun any happier. Jinwoo leaned forward and kissed his boyfriend's cheek.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized quietly. “I didn't mean to just bring up-”

“Don't ever apologize for talking about the past,” Myungjun responded, and he grabbed Jinwoo's hand, squeezing it gently. He ran his long fingers over Jinwoo's knuckles with his other hand, examining the skin with a sigh. “I just wish...I wish you weren't...”

“I know.”

“And even if you still were, even if life made you a witch, I wish...I wish when you ran away from home, you could have run straight to me.”

Jinwoo chuckled. “I was twelve. I doubt you would have accepted me.”

“I would have been fourteen, then, and I can attest to the fact that I was lonely,” Myungjun pointed out. Now that he was standing closer, he kissed Jinwoo, soft and chaste and as quick as could be. “No matter how far back in time we can go, I'd always accept you.”

Jinwoo smiled, and this time, Myungjun returned it. They embraced each other, arms wrapping around warm bodies and sharing their love, their _happiness_ , in having found each other.

Jinwoo honestly wouldn't know what his life would have become if Myungjun hadn't appeared. He imagined it to be similar to how it was before, darkness without a single thread of hope, without a single beam of light. Even though he _had_ finally gotten an apartment and a roommate and a steady source of income, he still felt unsafe and scared. He would sleep with his light on every night, restless, constantly checking to ensure the front door was locked.

(His roommate had never questioned it – though, upon learning Jinwoo was a witch, Jinwoo was certain that he might have connected the dots.)

And despite his present life being vastly different, he still couldn't help but revisit the past. He had woken up just that morning with a start, breath coming out in pants as the nightmare, still fresh in his mind, rewound itself and attempted to bring out all of those bad things, all of the horrible things he had gone through, from the recesses of his memory. He had felt panic grip at him, clutching his heart in its grasp, bony fingers wrapping around the organ.

But then Myungjun stirred, giving a light moan as he, too, abandoned sleep. He took one look at Jinwoo's posture, the tense back and shaking hands, and he sat up, leaving his bed behind. “Jinwoo,” he whispered, and he leaned his chin on Jinwoo's shoulder. “Baby?”

“Sorry,” Jinwoo responded, voice just as hushed. “It's...”

“I know.” Myungjun cautiously wrapped his arms around Jinwoo's body. The panic subsided, the fingers releasing his heart and fading out from his chest.

Myungjun, Jinwoo was learning, had an uncanny ability to make everything better. Despite his worst fears coming to light, despite old wounds reopening, Myungjun had but to kiss it and things would seem far better than before.

(“It's called _love_ ,” Myungjun had proclaimed once when Jinwoo told him, “and it's what you'll be getting a lot of for the rest of your life.”)

So even now, going to an unknown destination with Myungjun by his side, Jinwoo felt nothing but peace and calm wash over him.

“Are you sure you know how to drive?” Myungjun asked as they settled in the vehicle. “Because Dongmin's nice and all, but I think he'd kill me if we wrecked his car.”

“It was nice of him to let us borrow it,” Jinwoo commented. He adjusted the rear view mirror for his own height, then messed around with the steering wheel for a few seconds, trying to get a feel for the car. Myungjun had told him it would be about four hours on the road, and Jinwoo _needed_ to understand exactly how Dongmin's car operated if he expected to get anywhere on time.

“But can you _drive?_ ” Myungjun asked. When Jinwoo looked over at him in exasperation, Myungjun raised his eyebrows. “What? I'm just checking. Even I haven't gotten my license yet, so I don't think _you_ would have.”

Jinwoo pulled out his wallet and showcased his license. “Right here! Has my name and where I live and everything. I guess I'll have to get the address changed soon, though.”

Myungjun examined it a little more closely than Jinwoo would have liked. “It looks real,” he mumbled. “But _is_ it real?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn't magic up a driver's license, did you?” Myungjun peered over at his boyfriend. “You wouldn't do something _that_ insane, right?”

In order to not answer that particular question, Jinwoo simply stuck the keys in the ignition and started up the car. However, Myungjun was already well used to certain social cues Jinwoo gave, and he groaned.

“Great!” he exclaimed. “I'm driving with someone who has an illegal license.”

“No one's going to pull us over.” Jinwoo glanced behind him, ready to back out of the parking spot Dongmin had left his car in. “And once we're on the road-”

“You need to put the car in reverse, Jinwoo, it's in _drive_ right now.”

At least the rest of the ride went rather smoothly. Jinwoo had to admit, he had never driven so far before. Usually, he had just taken his roommate's car if he got permission to do so, delivering potions to clients who lived further away. Carrying a bunch of mysterious bottles or charms on public transportation would have drawn far more attention than Jinwoo was aiming for.

But those car rides were lonesome. He would stop sometimes at restaurants or interesting landmarks, and all around him were families or couples or best friends.

And then there was Jinwoo, sitting on the edge of every fountain he could find and tossing in coins, a prayer on his lips: _please help me belong_.

His prayers, apparently, hadn't gone unnoticed. Jinwoo smiled and glanced to his side, at the gorgeous man singing along loudly to whatever top hit was on the radio. The windows were rolled down, the cool breeze ruffling his hair and his clothes as sunshine filtered in and brightened his face-

Or maybe that was just his smile. Maybe the sun couldn't penetrate the glowing aura of Kim Myungjun.

They reached a stoplight, and, not for the first time, Myungjun leaned over and kissed him. Their lips molded together, and Jinwoo longed to continue the intimacy if the car behind him didn't suddenly blare its horn.

“Green light!” Myungjun exclaimed, breathless, as he pulled away. “Go.”

Jinwoo laughed as he drove off again, hands steady on the wheel. “How many times will you kiss me at stoplights before we get in trouble?”

“Until there's an actual law that dictates _no kissing while driving_ ,” Myungjun responded. “And then...well, it's not like both of us haven't broken the law before!”

Myungjun had his secret necromancy spells.

Jinwoo and his entire life.

“A bunch of criminals, is what we are,” he commented.

“Punish me, Jinwoo.”

“Oh, god, shut up.”

Myungjun's giggle was light and airy, joy oozing forth as he leaned back against his car seat and watched the world go by him.

Jinwoo wondered, sometimes, what Myungjun thought about in those quiet moments. He wondered if he remembered his own past, or if he, like Jinwoo, tried to store it away and think only of the present, and of the future.

As if reading his thoughts, Myungjun asked, “Is this really your first trip, Jinwoo?”

“Is it a trip?”

“Is this really your first inter-city travel without actually running away?” Myungjun rephrased.

Jinwoo kept his own eyes on the road. “Well,” he started, “aren't I running away from all the issues in Boryeong? I'm...I'm still running away.”

Myungjun's lips were tight, Jinwoo noticed, when he finally did glance over.

“Besides, I don't even know where it is we're going.” Jinwoo pointed at Myungjun's phone, giving them the directions in its monotone voice. “Somewhere in Jinju?”

Myungjun hummed slightly and nodded his head. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Somewhere in Jinju.”

He didn't expand on that. He changed the subject instead, focusing on the scenery they drove past or the sights they saw.

They stopped for breakfast at some point, a small convenience store Myungjun had mapped on the way. “My treat!” the older boy proudly said as he piled a bunch of sweets and milk onto the counter for the cashier to scan.

“It's a lot, though.”

“It's a bunch of cheap pastries. It's not too bad. Besides, I get good pay. I'm pretty good at my job.”

Jinwoo knew that from firsthand experience, and he would rather not get into any sort of argument while the cashier was nearby. He waited until they were seated outside and Myungjun was already tearing into the snacks.

“Where is this?” he wondered.

“Muju.” Myungjun had powdered sugar on his cheek. Jinwoo smiled softly. “There's, um...there's a park nearby. Like, a big park you can walk around in and see the river and the trees and I think there's even a waterfall there, too, somewhere.”

A few cars drove by; otherwise, it was quiet, and Jinwoo stared at his boyfriend.

“Because you've never had a trip. And I know this isn't a _vacation_ , it's just getting away and...that's what we're both used to, though. Running away.” Myungjun slurped at his milk. “I ran away and you've run away more times than I can probably count, and...we're doing it again, aren't we, Jinjin? We're running away.”

Jinwoo leaned forward and swiped his thumb across Myungjun's cheek, collecting the powdered sugar. He wiped it on his own pants with little care as to how messy it was. “But we're not _staying_ away,” he pointed out. “We're temporarily leaving. We're waiting until certain issues just blow over. It's not the same thing, because we both know that we're coming back.”

Myungjun sighed, nodding his head and brushing his sleeve over his mouth to ensure Jinwoo got the sugar off. “Well...it's still not a _vacation_.”

“No,” Jinwoo agreed with a chuckle. “It isn't.”

“Which was why I thought we could stop by that park! It's a huge park, apparently, and we can look at the sights and take all those stupid, tourist pictures – I only have a few tourist pictures with Minhyuk, and that was when he became my main baker and I took him to the beach as a celebration, except we were still in Boryeong, so it wasn't _really_ a vacation, either.” Myungjun took a breath and passed a banana milk over to Jinwoo. “Here, drink this. You'll need energy if we're going to go explore this huge park.”

Jinwoo stuck a straw down in his milk. “I haven't agreed to it yet.”

“But you will, won't you?”

He would. He _did_. Even if, for some reason, Jinwoo had decided he didn't find it fun to hang out with his boyfriend in potentially romantic locations, he still wouldn't have been able to reject Myungjun's large doe eyes and exaggerated pout. So he agreed (as he was going to all along) and kissed his boyfriend's nose as they stood to throw away their trash.

“I'd go anywhere with you, Myungjun,” he murmured, and Myungjun blushed, hiding it with a shake of his head and a quiet giggle.

He would do that, too. He _did_ do that. He allowed Myungjun to drag him across the park, to pose for cute photos, cheeks smushed together and smiles wide (“Doesn't this look like it belongs on some girl's social media page, Jinjin?”). They took one kissing, too, laughing too hard the first few takes and having to redo it over and over again (though Jinwoo was convinced it was more to do with Myungjun trying to steal kisses and less to do with the photo being blurry).

Myungjun's phone held most of the pictures, and as they started their journey again, he flipped through them, loudly commenting on each one.

Jinwoo's phone held three photos. All of them were of Myungjun, and when he glanced down at the one he set as his phone's lockscreen, he realized it didn't _feel_ like he left home. It felt like home was with him, sitting in the passenger seat and excitedly sending selfies off to Minhyuk. It felt like home was Myungjun.

But Jinwoo had known that, and when he reached over to grab Myungjun's hands, he shot his boyfriend a wide grin. “Are we close?”

Myungjun's grin faltered. “Ah. Yeah.”

It was worrisome, how nervous Myungjun had suddenly become, and Jinwoo blinked. “Are you okay?”

His only response was a quick nod, the smile now almost completely fallen from Myungjun's lips. Jinwoo found it weird, found it _odd_ , but he kept driving, spurred on by the directions from the robotic voice.

The mystery destination was soon solved. He put two-and-two together when he turned into the driveway of a small home with sunflowers in front.

“Myungjun...”

“Dongmin said they missed me.”

“We didn't have to come here.”

“I think it'd be good – because they'll hopefully welcome me back, and...and I know they'll love you, Jinjin.”

Jinwoo stared at the house in front of him. It seemed intimidating, despite how cute it really was. Myungjun's parents lived in there. The family he had not seen for five years, the family who supposedly yearned for his return. The family who had probably never met a witch and who probably never expected their son to be _dating_ one.

Jinwoo's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“We...we don't have to,” Myungjun whispered, as if noticing Jinwoo's inner turmoil. “I'm sort of too scared to go see them now, anyway, and...and I hadn't called them, I never told them I would come, so they'll never know if we just leave. We can go somewhere else, some nice hotel, and we can just spend time together. It'll be fine if we do that.”

It would be _easier_ if they did that. Myungjun wouldn't have to worry about reconciliation, and Jinwoo wouldn't have to worry about acceptance. They would just be happy by themselves.

But then nothing would ever be tied up. Myungjun would always be left away from his parents, a hole in his chest without them, and Jinwoo would knowingly _lead_ him away from happiness. It would be an empty vacation, filled with longing and regret, if they left now, when they were so close.

Jinwoo squeezed Myungjun's hand. “We're going,” he whispered, “We're going to see your parents again.”

It took a bit of persuasion to coerce Myungjun from the car. He was adamant that his parents truly hated him for having left in the first place. Jinwoo tried to quell his fears.

“If they're going to hate anyone, it'll be me,” he assured as they walked up the steps to the front door. “Just direct all attention onto the witch if they attack you, alright?”

“Like hell am I doing that.” Myungjun took a deep breath, still holding onto Jinwoo's hand. “Oh, god, I might be sick. If I puke, can we go-”

Jinwoo rang the doorbell in Myungjun's place, earning himself a glare of betrayal from the one man he loved. “Sorry,” he murmured, though he wasn't very sorry at all. He wanted Myungjun to face this issue head-on. He wanted Myungjun to have a family again, not a mismatched group of magic-using or magic-tolerant friends. Sure, Myungjun deserved all of them, but he also deserved the love that only parents could hold for their children.

He heard a voice inside, light and feminine: “I'm coming!”

The color appeared to have left Myungjun's face. He bit down harshly at his lip, staring at the door in anticipation, until the moment it opened.

Myungjun's mother was beautiful, Jinwoo thought. She was older than he imagined her to be, tired and worn out and pushing gray bangs from her face, but she carried with her an air of dignity and loyalty. She was small and frail, yet she seemed to have already faced the world head-on and won.

She was definitely Myungjun's mother.

“Mom?” Myungjun's voice trembled. “I-I'm...y-you remember me, right?”

Her eyes widened, recognition shining through, and she took a step forward. She only had focus on Myungjun now; Jinwoo was forgotten, even while still linked to Myungjun.

“M-Myungjun?”

Myungjun was going to cry. Jinwoo noticed the signs, and he watched carefully, worriedly, as the boy's breath hitched and as he rubbed at his nose with his free hand.

His next words were hushed, yet they held with them the depth of all the pain and loneliness Myungjun had burdened on his shoulders: “I'm home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys enjoyed this!!! hmu [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinwoo's heart skipped a beat. It was unused to this feeling, this intense wave of love that had swept over it. His heart was held hostage to Myungjun's caring adoration – Jinwoo hoped he would feel this way for the rest of his life, however long it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a _little_ behind, but classes have almost ended so I'll have more of a chance to work on this soon!

There was something interesting and different about watching a family gather together to prepare a meal, Jinwoo realized. It was something he had often seen in movies or television dramas. It was something he read of in books and heard of in school, but not something he had ever actually experienced for himself.

He hadn't even gotten close to experiencing it – not really, anyway. He couldn't count any of the times during his childhood, when he would either be forced to listen to the proceedings from afar, or he would be the lone cook in the kitchen.

He wasn't sure which one he considered to be the worse punishment. Cooking alone certainly was dreadful, especially when, at the young age of seven, he was thrust into the kitchen and told, “Make yourself useful.” Jinwoo found the kitchen daunting, found the utensils frightening, but failure to prepare dinner would result in everyone _else_ eating, probably takeout, while Jinwoo would be punished. He learned his lesson the first few times he burned the meals they were supposed to eat, rice stuck to the bottom of the pot and charred remains of meat tossed aside.

His aunt refused to hurt him, and while Jinwoo was certain that his uncle definitely would if he was able to, his aunt would restrain him from it. The cousins had more free a reign, but even they tried not to do anything under his aunt's watchful eye.

So he was punished in other manners – the first time, his uncle plopped the burnt, mangled meat and rice together on a plate and stuffed it under Jinwoo's nose. “Eat it,” his uncle demanded, voice harsh and rough. His cousins watched with glee as Jinwoo was made to eat the food he had ruined, his stomach trying to reject it all the while.

They all left to a restaurant. Jinwoo stayed behind, scrubbing at the pots and pans he had ruined, wiping away his tears.

He got the hang of cooking after a while, however, and he didn't burn food anymore after the first few instances. He supposed, in a way, he _had_ learned his lesson. Eating the scraps of the good food was better than eating a large handful of the bad food.

He would rather cook, though, and suffer his mistakes. His other option was on the nights when his aunt and uncle felt particularly nasty towards him, when they decided he wasn't even deserving of being _near_ them, and he was confined down to his basement room, listening as his family upstairs prepared their own meal.

Even his cousins were involved. They were laughing, causing a ruckus and running across the floorboards. His aunt would scold them, her voice light and kind, and then she would end up giggling, as well. His uncle cracked jokes as they worked, and as the smell of food wafted down to Jinwoo's lonely abode.

Then he would hear them eating, shocked exclamations proclaiming how great the food tasted, questions of how everyone's day had gone.

Usually, all of them had a great day. Usually, Jinwoo had a bad day.

Sometimes he would get leftovers – if there were any. Most of the food was stored in the refrigerator for someone's lunch later on, but Jinwoo would be given the bitten pieces from someone's plate. If it was from his cousins, he could always expect pieces to be chewed and spit back out. If it was his uncle, he knew better than to expect little more than crumbs. His aunt was the only one who _tried_ to leave him something actually edible, and he was always grateful to her for that.

He didn't realize how good he had it over there until he was out on the streets. The second night with absolutely nothing at all to eat, he wondered if he had taken his life for granted. Even if he didn't have much to eat, at least he could always count on _something_.

On the third night, he finally began scrounging for food. His hands were shaking and his legs felt weak, but he forced himself to rummage through trashcans outside of food establishments. He pulled apart empty wrappers and tossed aside gum, enduring the stench and the filth until he finally came across chicken, still resting in the small carton it had been sold in. There were only three small chicken tenders, stale and tasting mostly of the garbage from where they had been found, but Jinwoo was too hungry to care. He devoured them, regardless, hiding behind the dumpster in order to shield himself from police officers or concerned civilians.

He sobbed violently as he finished. His stomach felt sick, but he knew better than to throw up his first actual meal in days. He _couldn't_ do that and be left to starve again. So, just as he had forced himself to look for the food in the first place, he also forced himself to keep everything down, holding tightly onto himself as he cried throughout that night.

It wasn't an ideal situation, and eating out of the trash certainly wasn't what Jinwoo had pictured for himself. He tried not to; he would perform odd jobs for people nearby, or for businesses who needed a quick errand boy. It wasn't much money, but usually he could afford to buy _some_ sort of meal. Some nights, however, no matter how much he asked and begged for work, there was nothing available, and he would have to weigh his options – garbage or hunger?

Most of the time, he chose hunger, but there were desperate occasions again, other days with such an intense lack of food, where he had to grab _something_ in order to survive.

_But what am I surviving for?_ he always wondered. He had nothing to live for. He never had, apparently, but especially then, out on the streets with no discernible future in place, there _was_ nothing to live for.

Those nights where he had such thoughts were probably the worst nights. Even if he was well-fed, even if the night was cool and pleasant, even if he was able to afford a student hostel for a few hours, he had such self-depreciating thoughts that he wondered if anything was _worth_ it all.

If that was to be the rest of his life, Jinwoo would rather waste away.

It seemed as if his will to survive was stronger than his will to die, however, because Jinwoo held on. Through the hungry nights, through the stale food, through the constant fear of being found, he decided that he would stick with life to see if it would offer him anything better than what it had dealt him already. He didn't think it could ever get _worse_ , in any case.

But as if life wanted to prove a point, he met Doyun. Doyun _seemed_ like his one chance for a better life. With his wide smile and his alluring flame, Jinwoo was drawn closer.

There wasn't much that Doyun had to give him. Doyun liked to take, instead. He took whatever was available to him; whatever Jinwoo had left belonged to Doyun. He took Jinwoo's dignity and his happiness and his hope. With Doyun, nothing really seemed worth it in the end.

He had food, though. He remembered thinking of such a thing bitterly one night, curled up into himself as he stared at the bare back in front of him. He had received meals, when Doyun deemed him _good_ _enough_ to eat. It was humiliating and embarrassing to force himself to perform favors, whatever Doyun wanted, in order to keep himself well-fed.

Typically, he would have to cook the meals, anyway, all by himself. He was reminded of his aunt's house again, though even if he had cooked enough for two people, even if he bought the groceries from the little money he would earn from secretly selling his potions, Doyun wouldn't allow him the pleasure of eating the food.

Especially not if it meant they would sit down at the table together, as couples were supposed to.

“You can clean up,” Doyun instructed as he would sit in his chair and pull his food closer to him. “Once you're done, if I have anything left, you can definitely eat that.”

He would leave very little, unless Jinwoo specifically asked for more; and that's when the favors came in. Doyun held power over Jinwoo, and when he was especially hungry, he would subject himself to Doyun's commands and desires.

It was degrading. He didn't feel like an equal.

(He wasn't an equal, as Doyun constantly reminded him. He was less than human, worthy of absolutely nothing, forever in debt to someone as kind and caring as Doyun.)

But then there was Myungjun.

Cooking with Myungjun was the first time he had cooked with _anyone_. It was the first time someone dragged him into the kitchen, an excited look on their face, and asked, “Can we cook dinner together?”

Jinwoo had agreed, nodding his head and feeling as if he was in a daze. It felt like a dream. It felt like something he had wished for once before as a young child, but had lost all hope for as time went on.

They made a simple meal. Myungjun claimed he wasn't a great cook, that soup would be an easy dish to prepare, and Jinwoo decided to go along with it. He was skilled enough to cook whatever Myungjun wanted, and if all he wanted that night was a chicken and rice soup, then Jinwoo would do his best at making it.

It was a quiet affair at first, until Myungjun bumped hips with him as Jinwoo prepared the chicken. The younger boy glanced up; Myungjun grinned widely.

“You're being quiet,” Myungjun had said. “Come _on_ , talk to me! It's lonely without your voice.”

Jinwoo's heart skipped a beat. It was unused to this feeling, this intense wave of love that had swept over it. His heart was held hostage to Myungjun's caring adoration – Jinwoo hoped he would feel this way for the rest of his life, however long it would be.

“I'm not sure what you want me to talk about,” he admitted, his voice quiet.

Myungjun huffed. “Anything! How was your day?”

“I cleaned, and I worked on my spells.”

“Sounds productive!”

It wasn't as productive as a job would have been, but whenever Jinwoo brought it up, Myungjun quelled it with a quick, “Not now. It's too soon.”

He understood Myungjun was scared, _terrified_ , to let him out of his sight. Jinwoo's death had done more damage to Myungjun than the older boy cared to admit, and so Jinwoo decided not to push anything. He would sit back for the moment, work only on selling his potions, and when the time came, when Myungjun calmed down, Jinwoo would actually become a _normal_ member of society. He would work, and he would bring home paychecks, and he would return all the care that Myungjun was bestowing upon him.

“How about you?” he asked, deciding to stick with the current conversation instead of bringing up his desire to work. “Was the bakery going well?”

“Yeah! Minhyuk wants you to work with him. He says you seem like you could learn how to bake.” Myungjun seemed to have given up on preparing his rice. He wrapped his arms around Jinwoo instead, leaning into him with a hum. “I like that idea. Because then we could always see each other.”

Another skip in his heartbeat. “I'd love to see you all the time.”

Myungjun placed a kiss on the shell of his ear before nuzzling his nose into Jinwoo's neck. It was warm and delightful, and Jinwoo couldn't help but grin at Myungjun's embrace. “Can you come into work with me tomorrow, then?” he asked. “And you can bake with Minhyuk and I can kiss my awesome boyfriend whenever the hell I want?”

Jinwoo had laughed, then spun around. He kept his hands outstretched from his sides, ensuring he wouldn't accidentally touch Myungjun with raw chicken juice. “I think that's probably the best job offer I've ever been given,” he teased, and Myungjun's giggle brought him pure delight and joy.

Jinwoo had _liked_ the bakery, too. He liked baking with Minhyuk, testing out new frosting flavors and creating buttery breakfast foods in the morning time. He liked getting to know his new coworker and roommate, as well. He liked being treated as a normal person, as a _friend_ , as someone who belonged.

Even with Myungjun's family, it was a similar experience. They treated him as an equal, as someone worthy enough to be close to them, to help them with whatever they deemed necessary.

Though, it could do with the fact that Myungjun hadn't exactly explained _what_ he was.

Myungjun's mother had cried, loudly, joyfully, as she hugged her son the moment they stepped through the door. Myungjun himself teared up; Jinwoo noticed the trembling fists gripping at the back of his mother's shirt, and when Myungjun buried his face into the woman's neck, Jinwoo knew for certain that he was crying, as well.

His father had come out, spurred by the noise, and joined the hug quickly, whispering the words, “Thank God,” over and over.

Jinwoo was an outsider, someone watching a family reunite, someone who should, by all accounts, have no place in the happy moment. But Myungjun didn't forget him. Myungjun pulled back, sniffing and coughing, and grabbed onto Jinwoo's shoulder.

“Th-This is Jinwoo,” he stated, pulling Jinwoo in closer. “And he's m-my best friend, and my roommate, and he gets a-along well with Minhyuk. He's perfect, and-”

“Does he know?” Myungjun's mother had asked, worry clouding over her gaze.

Myungjun nodded, and a shaky grin came onto his face. “He knows,” Myungjun admitted. “He knows I-I'm a necromancer.”

There was silent for a second, and Myungjun's mother fell apart again – this time, she grasped onto Jinwoo, whispering her thanks in his ear, proud, finally, that Myungjun had someone to rely on. Myungjun's father patted Jinwoo's back comfortingly, showcasing his gratitude, as well, and Jinwoo caught Myungjun's eye.

He was wiping at wet cheeks and taking deep, shuddering breaths, but he smiled widely, proudly, at the scene before him.

It wasn't until later, as Myungjun showed off his old bedroom, that Jinwoo realized something. “You didn't tell them we were together,” he whispered, interrupting Myungjun's reminiscing.

Myungjun looked sheepish. “I will,” he promised. “Seriously. But, uh, I want them to get used to me being here first. Because once I tell them we're together, I'll have to, um, I'll have to admit that you're a witch, and...” Myungjun shrugged his shoulders. “I want to wait.”

“Will they hate me?”

“No!” Myungjun hurried back over to Jinwoo and kissed his cheek, softly, gently. “They'll never hate you, Jinwoo. They've just never met a witch before. It might be a shock, so I want to do it carefully. But once they see that I love you more than anything else in the world, they'll accept you.”

Jinwoo had only ever been accepted by Myungjun first, then by Myungjun's friends second – he wasn't sure if Myungjun's parents would follow the mold, though. It seemed too good to be true. But, still, he _trusted_ Myungjun, because he never had a reason not to. He trusted that Myungjun's parents would accept him, even with his status as a witch.

Once the grand tour of Myungjun's room was complete, they made their way back downstairs, and Jinwoo was the first to offer his assistance in preparing dinner.

“You don't have to!” Myungjun's mother exclaimed. “You're our guest!”

“I'd love to help, though,” Jinwoo assured. “I'm pretty good at cooking.”

Myungjun broke in with his own thoughts. “He really is, Mom. He cooks at home for us, and he helps Minhyuk out in the bakery we have.”

Myungjun's mother smiled fondly and rubbed Myungjun's hair. “I'm so impressed that you opened up your own bakery!” she exclaimed. “I bet it's very popular, isn't it?”

Jinwoo glanced over at his boyfriend, who smiled nervously. “Minhyuk's the better baker,” Myungjun commented. “I help out when I can. But Jinwoo's even better than me!”

Jinwoo wondered if Myungjun would tell them about the actual reason behind the bakery. He wondered if Myungjun would bring up the fact that it wasn't _entirely_ legal, that he performed his magic in a small, back room to only a few select people, those who _knew_ , those who swore secrecy. Jinwoo didn't think he would want for his parents to hear about that, however, especially because people born into magic would have to keep silent. Using their energy was dangerous; what if someone told, what if someone saw, what if something went wrong? It was a constant worry in the minds of magic users. It was a constant worry in Myungjun's mind, and Jinwoo could only assume it would be a constant worry in the mind of his parents, a worry Myungjun would rather not give them if he could help it.

Instead of detailing what he did, then, Myungjun described his bakery to his mother. He spoke of the brilliant flowers he kept at every table, of the clean, sleek floors he cleaned everyday, of the little display items he had learned how to make and preserve properly so customers could get a visual of what exactly they would be eating. He spoke of how business was picking up and how he was worried to leave Minhyuk all by himself, but he trusted the young boy to do well.

When he finally stopped to take a breath, and to wash the peppers he was about to chop up, his father turned his attention onto Jinwoo.

“Do you work at the bakery, as well?” he asked.

Jinwoo blinked; he hadn't been prepared to answer questions concerning his own career – his non-existent career, at that. “I, um, I help out,” he mentioned, repeating what Myungjun had already stated. “I'm learning the ropes.” He shifted in his seat, slowly preparing the kimchi for their meal. “I moved in with Myungjun rather recently, and it was a little rushed, so I haven't had the chance to look for a full-time job yet, but I think when we go back home, I'll search around.”

“Have you been to university?”

The questions were unexpected. Jinwoo never had someone take interest in his life before. “No.”

Myungjun's father smiled still, and he shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn't be concerned. You can take classes online if you find something you'd like to do. I think sometimes the best of people haven't been to university.”

As he spoke, he glanced over at Myungjun, who pretended he wasn't smiling widely by focusing solely on his own food preparation.

“I haven't finished high school,” Myungjun pointed out.

“And you're just as smart as all the children who did!” His mother was quick to come to his rescue, turning her face away from her soup. “One of the boys you used to attend school with isn't working still, despite being twenty-five. He just sits in his mother's house all day long. And _you've_ already got an apartment and you opened up your own bakery! You didn't need to finish high school for any of that.”

“God, Mom, you're making me blush,” Myungjun complained, his tone light and sweet.

He exchanged a glance with Jinwoo, his cheeks pushed up in a large grin, and Jinwoo smiled back.

Listening to Myungjun's exchange with his parents didn't make Jinwoo nearly as envious as he assumed it would have. Every time it came up, though, every time the bitter jealousy rose in his chest, it was quelled with kind words from both of Myungjun's parents. His mother complimented his hair, exclaiming that the blond looked nice on him and that he styled it very well. His father liked his work ethic, how quick he was at chopping chives, how precise his knife movements were.

No one, other than Myungjun, had treated him in such a way. No one had ever made him feel worthwhile before.

Preparing dinner was normally a chore, a task, something he was _forced_ to complete to make everyone else happy. He would labor away in the kitchen, preparing whatever meal was required, and after it was served, he would retreat with nothing but the leftovers.

But that didn't happen with Myungjun's parents. They sat him down at their table, beer and water supplied alongside the meal, and instantly they all began to load food onto their plates. Jinwoo was silent, still for a second, until Myungjun scooped some cold noodles in front of him.

“This is for you,” his boyfriend murmured. “And grab some of the kimchi you made – it looks delicious. Mom, I forgot to ask, but are you still growing tomatoes? Is that where these tomatoes are from? Oh, god, they're fresh! Jinwoo, you have to try the tomatoes in this soup, alright?”

His mother watched as Myungjun gobbled down his food, giving delighted noises of exclamation to show his appreciation. “It's been such a long time,” she commented quietly. Myungjun slowed in his movements and cleared his throat. “Myungjun, honey, how long has it been?” She bit her lip, then whispered, “Are you living well enough? Do you have food at home to eat?”

Myungjun swallowed thickly. His father put a hand on his wife's shoulder, a comforting presence, but he, too, seemed to want answers.

“The apartment is...it's small,” Myungjun responded, truthfully, after giving Jinwoo a quick glance. “And it's messy. Isn't it, Jinwoo?” He didn't wait for Jinwoo's confirmation. “But there's three guys in there right now, and I still have plants all over the place. I really like all of my plants, and I just...I like having them near me. But I eat well. It was a lot of take-out until Minhyuk showed up, and then he taught me better habits, and now I'm eating well. And with Jinwoo, it's just gotten even better, because...I have more people who care for me.” He scratched at his cheek. “Dongmin moved into our town. He has a boyfriend. I like to hang out with them, too, and-and they both know about...me. And there's a neighbor beside us, this kid. He's tall and young and taking college courses. He likes me. He figured out what I am, but...he's okay with it, too.”

Myungjun's mother was crying again, silent tears spilling down her cheeks as she gazed upon her son. Jinwoo could sense the relief in her expression and posture, the knowledge that the son she had worried about for five years was safe and sound, surrounded by people who loved and cared for him, surrounded by happiness he had never experienced before.

It tugged at Jinwoo's heart, and under the table, view hidden from Myungjun's parents, Jinwoo moved his knee, bumping legs lightly into Myungjun, who seemed to lean into the slight touch. It wasn't the amount of comfort Jinwoo _wanted_ to give, but for the moment, it would have to do.

“I missed you, though.” Myungjun gave a bitter laugh and ran his fingers through his hair. “I have a picture of us all – I'm sorry, Mom, I stole it when I left. I'm sorry.”

She couldn't speak; she tried, but the words came out with her sobs, incoherent. Myungjun's father, voice strained, answered for her. “We know,” he choked out. “We're happy you took it.”

Myungjun sniffed suddenly, and Jinwoo was certain he would cry again, but he held it back. He _did_ reach a hand over the table, wiggling his fingers, and his mother quickly grasped onto it.

“I missed you,” she blurted out through her tears. “Every single day, I missed you.”

It was an intimate moment, something that Jinwoo didn't want to intrude on. He made plans to finish his meal in a hurry and retreat to Myungjun's old bedroom, to await the moment where family matters weren't involved, but before he could move, Myungjun's mother turned her watery gaze to him.

“Thank you for watching over him,” she said. “And can you thank Minhyuk for me, wh-when you two return home? And Dongmin, that nice, young man – and everyone else. Please, Jinwoo, thank them all for taking care of my son.”

“Come on, Mom.” Myungjun rubbed at his nose and laughed lightly. “I can take care of myself. I'm the oldest one out of the losers I hang out with.”

“Still.” His mother shrugged her shoulders and released Myungjun's hand. “I want Jinwoo to thank them for me, regardless.” She smiled and also tried to compose herself. “I'm so sorry. That was silly of me to break down. This is supposed to be a good meal with no tears. Let's keep it that way, alright?”

The conversation from then on was pleasant and fun. Myungjun cracked jokes, and his parents discussed their life. No one forgot Jinwoo, either, constantly breaking their own thoughts to ask how _he_ was doing, what his favorite food was, where he had grown up, if it hurt when he pierced his ears-

And Jinwoo answered with joy in his heart and Myungjun by his side, realizing that even in an unfamiliar place, it still felt like so much like a home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys have enjoyed this update! i dont feel it was the strongest, buuuuut next few chapters, we get more myungjin and also the parents learning jinwoo's identity :O
> 
> hmu with dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Myungjun who had accepted him, Myungjun who had saved him, and Myungjun who had loved him. There was no way to return the sacrifice that Myungjun had so willingly given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im updating even though i said i wouldnt until i finish the next chapter but i cant finish it tonight, so i will finish it tomorrow~

Jinwoo hated sleeping by himself.

He was used to it. He had been sleeping alone for his entire life. It was so common; even with Doyun, he would feel as if no one else was in the bed with him. He had always been ignored, always been tossed aside, always been alone with a cold spot next to him.

This was a little bit different, considering he _knew_ that Myungjun's parents just wanted him to be comfortable. They weren't aware of his reluctance to be alone, and so they set him up in Myungjun's old childhood bedroom.

Myungjun's mother fluffed the pillow that Jinwoo would be using. “I'm sorry this is all we have to offer,” she apologized. “But it isn't too bad! The detective that came along with Dongmin a while ago told me that it had been comfortable enough.”

“Bin slept in here?”

“And Dongmin. They said they wouldn't mind, since they were just work partners.”

Jinwoo decided against telling her of the relationship between Dongmin and Bin. He didn't know either of them well enough to start outing them as a couple, either. Myungjun could have that task.

And, speaking of Myungjun-

“Are you sure Myungjun would rather sleep in the living room?” he asked. “I mean, I-I don't think I'd mind it if he wanted to sleep in his old bed, instead. Or if we both wanted to sleep in here. I'm sure we'd fit, since Dongmin and Bin both fit in this bed.”

He _wanted_ to sleep with Myungjun. He wanted to curl up beside his boyfriend and place lazy kisses all along his neck and jaw before closing his eyes and settling down for the night. He wanted to feel a warmth plastered up into his side, hands wound around his waist.

The bed just looked lonely without Myungjun.

“He's fine!” Myungjun's mother assured Jinwoo, patting his shoulder. “I had Dongmin and Bin in here simply because I wasn't ready for guests. But since Myungjun told me you two would be staying for a few nights, I wanted the sleeping arrangements to be perfect! You'd probably get tired sleeping with a _guy_ beside you, right?”

Myungjun had promised that he would tell them the next time they sat down to eat dinner. Myungjun had promised that his parents would soon know of their relationship and of Jinwoo's less-than-ideal status in life. For now, he would smile and pretend that he was _just_ Myungjun's roommate and best friend.

“Right,” he agreed, lying between his teeth. Myungjun's mother was none the wiser. She smiled brightly and gave Jinwoo's shoulder a pat. Jinwoo wondered if she would do the same thing, if she would allow herself to come in contact with Jinwoo, after learning he was a witch.

“I hope you sleep well, Jinwoo,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “Myungjun's father is leaving early for work tomorrow morning, but I'll make breakfast for the three of us. Is there anything you'd like?”

Jinwoo didn't know how he could ever get used to a motherly figure doting on him in such a manner. However, he decided he'd better _not_ get used to it. Once she learned the truth, she would withdraw from him, as so many others had done before.

He tried not to let it affect his heart _too_ badly.

“Whatever you want to make, I'll eat,” Jinwoo promised.

Myungjun's mother laughed, the tone light and airy, reminiscent to that of Myungjun's own laughter. Jinwoo could definitely see the relation in them, the more he looked and listened.

“Then I'll be certain to do my best, Jinwoo,” she commented. One more pat to his back, and then she moved, stepping away from Jinwoo. “If you need anything, we're in the farthest room down the hall. Or you can always wake up Myungjun, if you're uncomfortable getting us up. But don't hesitate, okay? We really don't mind!”

Jinwoo wanted to cry. She was so nice, so pleasant, and telling her he was a witch would ruin everything.

“Yes,” was his response, though, instead of tears. “Thank you, though, so much.”

Her smile never wavered. “Thank you for staying with my son, and for coming with him now, and just for...for being there, Jinwoo. Thank you.”

Jinwoo didn't know what to say. Really, was there anything he _could_ say? In the end, Myungjun had done more for him than Jinwoo could ever think of reciprocating. It was Myungjun who had accepted him, Myungjun who had saved him, and Myungjun who had loved him. There was no way to return the sacrifice that Myungjun had so willingly given.

He couldn't put that into words, however. All he could do was nod, biting at his lip and waiting until she left. The door shut behind her, and Jinwoo instantly fell onto the bed.

The scent was unfamiliar. He couldn't detect any trace of Myungjun's presence. The sheets smelled clean, however, as clean as the rest of the house, _just_ like the rest of the house. It wasn't the small bed back home, pushed up against the wall right underneath the window. It didn't have the large blanket with dogs all over it that Myungjun had bought on a whim. It didn't have _two_ pillows, side by side, one of them folded over usually because Myungjun liked his head up a little bit higher.

It didn't have _Myungjun_.

It was the worst part about the bed. By itself, sure, it was definitely comfortable and the sheets were warm, but Jinwoo automatically made an empty spot where Myungjun should have been. He was on the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the palm of his hand as he stared at the wall.

Myungjun's face should have been right there. He should be sleeping at this point, eyelashes fluttering down, mouth open slightly, a little bit of drool trailed down his cheeks. He would have curled into Jinwoo, too, at some point during the night, because Myungjun was anything if not clingy, plastering himself onto Jinwoo the moment he was able and not once letting go.

Jinwoo felt like he had taken it all for granted.

It took much longer than normal to actually fall asleep. It was restless and cold and lonely. Jinwoo couldn't _stay_ asleep, either, his mind creating wild scenarios the moment sleep decided to lull him away. He dreamed first of Doyun, second of his death, third of Myungjun's death.

The third dream ended with a start, Jinwoo sitting up suddenly in bed, Myungjun's name spilling forth from his lips. “Myungjun!”

His cry was answered almost instantly: “Yes?”

Jinwoo gave another start, eyes darting up to stare at the owner of the melodic voice.

Myungjun stood over him; even in the dark, he looked sheepish and guilty, a small smile tugging at his lips. He wore his pajamas, long sleeping pants and one of Jinwoo's t-shirts he had packed. It was broad on the shoulders and it hung on Myungjun's smaller frame. He looked cute.

But staring at his cute boyfriend wasn't distraction enough, and Jinwoo took a few seconds to breathe. He could feel sweat at his temples and on his forehead, and he wiped it with a shaky hand. “Wha-What are you doing in here?” he whispered, trying to ignore his awful dream.

“I'm going to go to bed. What does it look like?”

And then, suddenly, Myungjun was climbing over Jinwoo, moving slow in an attempt to avoid pressing a hand down on Jinwoo's stomach.

“We can't sleep together!” Jinwoo exclaimed, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “What if your parents find out? I thought you wanted to tell them at dinner.”

“They won't find out,” Myungjun assured, and before Jinwoo could protest any further, Myungjun had collapsed onto the empty side, the side Jinwoo still left wide open, and lay his head down on the pillow, teetering too close to the edge. “I'll leave in a few hours, before they wake up.”

Jinwoo stared down at him, a nervous frown playing on his lips. He glanced up through the darkness at the door. “But what _if_ they wake up-”

“Don't make me go back out to the couch,” Myungjun whispered suddenly, as if begging Jinwoo. “Please. I've...I've become used to sleeping with you, and I can't _sleep_ without you. I have all these bad dreams, Jinwoo, I just...can't.”

Nightmares were common between both of them. Maybe it was common among all magic users – though Jinwoo didn't know if any of _them_ had ever carried a burden quite like Myungjun's, the knowledge that he had faced death and somehow defeated it, the knowledge that if he had slipped or taken his hands away for one second, or if he simply didn't have enough energy in that moment, then he would have been defeated himself, and Jinwoo would be dead forever.

He knew Myungjun still dreamed of having failed. Myungjun would wake up in tears sometimes, grasping onto Jinwoo and praying that he would never be taken away.

So Jinwoo couldn't very well blame him. All Jinwoo _could_ do was lay down beside Myungjun, taking up his own half of the pillow and swallowing thickly. “I had them, too,” he responded, his own voice now hushed. “I understand.”

Myungjun curled into Jinwoo's side – Jinwoo's chest now became Myungjun's new pillow.

“Then let me stay?” he asked. “I'll leave in the morning, but for now, just let me stay.”

He needn't ask twice. Now, with Myungjun laying almost on top of him, Jinwoo finally felt calm and normal once more. He felt as if they were back in the small room of their apartment, clutching onto each other in love.

Myungjun's childhood home wasn't too different, in that case. Within its walls it housed such a similar love that it tugged on Jinwoo's heart and made him draw Myungjun all the closer.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I love you so much.”

“Right back at you,” Myungjun said. “I'll never stop loving you.”

And then sleep was easy to attain and keep hold of.

The morning came far too quickly. As the sunlight peeked in through the blinds of the window, awakening the world, Jinwoo sighed heavily and blinked open his eyes, still feeling groggy and warm and loved.

Myungjun wasn't yet awake, but Jinwoo didn't mind. It gave him a chance to admire his boyfriend; he loved Myungjun's nose, the way it wrinkled and scrunched up, and he loved Myungjun's lips, how full and plump they were, and he loved Myungjun's eyes, because even when closed, they were still the most beautiful sight in the entire world.

“I love you,” Jinwoo whispered, and he planted a kiss to Myungjun's forehead, earning himself a mouthful of hair. He didn't mind that, either. He simply smiled brightly, brushing some hair away from Myungjun's eyebrows so he could kiss there, too.

He craned his neck down, next planting a kiss onto Myungjun's nose. The older boy on top of him shifted, yawning lightly, and Jinwoo waited for him to wake up, eyes droopy and cheeks swollen.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice husky, and Jinwoo grinned.

“Morning, sunshine,” Jinwoo answered. Myungjun giggled and wrapped his arms around Jinwoo's waist, nuzzling his head into his chest.

“I like it when you call me sunshine,” he commented. “It's cute.”

“You're cute.”

Myungjun looked up, his sleepy gaze locking onto Jinwoo's face. “Not as cute as you, Jinjin.”

Jinwoo's heart raced whenever Myungjun gave him a nickname or a pet name. _Jinjin_ , or _babe_ , or _angel_ – how could Myungjun make him feel so loved and so _in_ love? It had never happened before in Jinwoo's life, and he was filled with such adoration for the man laying on his chest.

“Come up here,” he demanded, poking his own lips. “I need kisses, Myungjun. I _desperately_ need kisses.”

Myungjun complied to the first request, shimmying back up the bed and settling down beside Jinwoo rather than on top of him. “I have morning breath,” he murmured. “It'll be gross.”

“Like I care.”

Jinwoo kissed him first, soft and sweet. His hands took hold of Myungjun's arms, pulling him close, holding onto him tightly. Myungjun responded with a soft sigh as he gripped at the front of Jinwoo's shirt, lips moving lazily against Jinwoo's kiss.

For a second, for a moment, it seemed as if they were back at home, on Myungjun's crowded bed with the stupid dog-print blanket draped haphazardly over their bodies, the sounds of the city muffled through the walls of the apartment, the streetlights outside flickering off as the sun made its appearance. If Jinwoo closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was there, Minhyuk sleeping in the next room over, the scent of _Myungjun_ overwhelming, the scent of flowers and soil and baked goods. It was perfect, and Jinwoo slowly moved, now over top of Myungjun, his hands supporting his body as he bent down to continue the kiss. Myungjun, willingly splayed out beneath him, smiled into Jinwoo's lips, submitting easily.

And then the moment was broken. The door to Myungjun's childhood bedroom opened quite suddenly, jerking Jinwoo from his daydreams and fantasies. His head shot up and his eyes darted over to the intruder.

“Jinwoo!” It was Myungjun's father, out of breath as he looked nervously at the witch. “Jinwoo, have you seen Myu-”

Then, it seemed, Myungjun's father must have spotted Myungjun, trapped under Jinwoo, lips puffy and red and cheeks flushed. The position _definitely_ didn't leave much to the imagination, and Jinwoo's eyes widened.

“You...you two...?”

Myungjun groaned and sat up, gently pushing Jinwoo off of him.

(Jinwoo wanted Myungjun to wrap him in the blanket and toss him out the window.)

“Dad, look, it's...I was going to tell you. You _and_ Mom. I swear, I just...needed to find the right time.” Myungjun cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Obviously this is a _bad_ time to find out, though – why didn't you knock?”

Myungjun's father still seemed dazed, and he blinked before pointing out at the living room. “You weren't there,” he whispered. “And...that's how it was five years ago. You disappeared.”

Myungjun bit down on his lip, looking guilty, and nodded his head. “Sorry,” he replied. “I am. I thought – I mean, Jinwoo and I didn't _do_ anything. I couldn't sleep, though. And he's, um, he's my boyfriend, and I _always_ sleep in bed with him, so it was weird, and I couldn't sleep, so...” Myungjun took a deep breath, the worry evident in his gaze. “Dad, please don't tell Mom. I'll tell both of you tonight. Please, though, please just act like you don't know a thing, okay? I need to...to tell both of you, and I know Mom will take it hard if _you_ knew and I kept it secret.”

Myungjun's father nodded his head slowly, though he didn't stop staring at his son in confusion. “When did-”

“I'll tell you guys _everything_ when you come home from work.” Myungjun offered him a small smile. “Promise, Dad.”

And then his father stepped back. He still looked inquisitive, still looked lost, but he returned the smile cautiously. “Right,” he said. “Alright. It's...it's fine. I'll, um, I'll see you two when I come home, then?”

With Myungjun's confirmation and Jinwoo's silence, he left then, closing the door quietly behind him and retreating again. Myungjun waited until he heard his father completely leave the house before flopping over in bed with a loud groan.

“That wasn't how I wanted to tell him,” he fussed.

Jinwoo wondered when _he_ would ever stop feeling embarrassed. It stuck with him all throughout breakfast, the event replaying over and over again in his mind.

Myungjun's father saw him making out and feeling up his son. Myungjun's father _witnessed_ such an intimate moment between what he had _thought_ were two friends and roommates and nothing more. Jinwoo could have killed himself, he was so humiliated.

“Jinwoo, sweetheart, are you alright?” Myungjun's mother asked him after the third time he sighed heavily.

Jinwoo nodded his head. “I'm fine,” he murmured. She wasn't aware of what had happened; shortly after his father left, Myungjun gave Jinwoo one last kiss and hurried back to the couch before she could awaken and discover their secret (or, not so secret) relationship. At least Jinwoo hadn't embarrassed himself in front of _her_. He didn't think he could ever live through that.

She smiled gently at him. “You look tired,” she commented. “I always find it rough to sleep in a new place on the first night. Hopefully tomorrow night will be a little easier for you to sleep through, now that you've gotten used to the bed.”

Jinwoo didn't know how to respond, so he simply shoveled some food in his mouth, making certain to compliment the taste.

After the meal, she handed Jinwoo a towel and a washcloth and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom. “Why don't you take a shower?” she suggested, patting his back. “It always makes me feel better when I haven't slept well. Everything you'll need is right in there, alright? And I'm sure you have a change of clothes, and if not, I have some older ones Myungjun left behind that you can borrow.”

Jinwoo didn't have the heart to reject her, even if he wasn't tired at all and even if he had actually slept perfectly. Her kindness to a witch was admirable; even if she didn't _know_ he was a witch, Jinwoo decided he would accept whatever he could until Myungjun told the truth. He wanted to feel loved and appreciated, at least for the rest of the day.

As he allowed the warm water from the shower to cascade down his body, he wondered just how exactly they were expected to break the news to Myungjun's parents. His father already knew they were together – somewhat, at least. And _he_ seemed to have taken it well enough, for what he had seen. Jinwoo wasn't sure if his mother would be as accepting of their relationship, however. She seemed nice. She _was_ nice, incredibly so, and Jinwoo worried that the moment it came out that he was a witch, she would take away all she had given to Jinwoo, every kind word and comforting touch.

He didn't want that to happen. Part of him pondered if he should ask Myungjun to continue to keep it a secret, to just announce that they were dating and let that be it. But, then again, he didn't want Myungjun to hide the truth from his family. He had just been reunited with them, and if he kept silent on Jinwoo's magic, Jinwoo _knew_ it would tug at his heart forever.

Jinwoo reached for the shampoo, and for the second time that day, he was interrupted. The shower curtain flung open, and Jinwoo screamed as he tried to shield his body from whatever intruder had come at him _now_.

“It's just me, babe.”

Myungjun's voice filtered through, and Jinwoo's heart slowed its beating. Still, he didn't uncover himself, and he stared at his boyfriend incredulously. “What the hell are you doing?” Jinwoo hissed. He blinked through the water and steam and realized Myungjun was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, and he realized _what_ Myungjun wanted. “Myungjun! Seriously? Your mom is here! She'll _know_ -”

“She went out for errands,” Myungjun said. “She'll be back in two hours, give or take. And a shower won't take more than _one_ hour.” He let the towel drop and tried to step inside, but Jinwoo blocked him. “Jinwoo, come on! We _always_ shower together!”

“We haven't been together for that long; we've showered together twice.”

“Well, we _will_ always shower together.”

His words were pleasant, spoken with the promise of the future, of their life together years and years from now. Jinwoo liked to think that even then, he could wake up to kiss Myungjun, and even then, his boyfriend would still want to join him in the shower.

He was getting soft – or maybe he had just always been soft for Myungjun. There was only a little more hesitation before he moved aside, stepping back under the spray of water to allow Myungjun some room. “Fine,” he murmured, gesturing for his boyfriend to join him.

Myungjun's eyes lit up and he hurriedly climbed into the shower, a large grin overtaking his expression. “Mom will never know,” he promised. “We'll shower and then we'll be done and she'll have _no_ clue. I swear it.”

Jinwoo believed him, because Myungjun had never before given him a reason _not_ to. He smiled gently as he grabbed the shampoo bottle.

Before he could lather shampoo in his hair, though, Myungjun stole the bottle from him, applying a liberal amount to his palm. “Close your eyes, Jinjin,” he said. “I wanna wash your hair for you.”

Jinwoo didn't know if Myungjun was trying to soften him up even more, or if he _truly_ wanted to wash his hair. Or maybe both. From the looks of it, Myungjun's serene expression, it was probably both, and Jinwoo would readily give in when Myungjun stared at him like _that_ , with such affection in his gaze. He did as requested, keeping his eyes shut as he felt Myungjuns fingers massage his scalp and thread through wet strands of hair. His touch was tender and Jinwoo leaned into it readily, a small hum of appreciation escaping through his closed lips.

“Lean back,” was Myungjun's next instruction, and he carefully dipped Jinwoo's head backwards into the stream of water. “And keep your eyes and mouth shut. Let me rinse it off.”

Showers had always been a privilege for Jinwoo. His uncle timed him, usually; two minutes to scrub himself down, maybe twice a week if he got lucky. He remembered feeling jealousy rise up in his stomach when his cousins got baths and long, warm showers, when they were given the fluffiest towels afterwards, when his aunt bought all of them robes with cute hoods. He received cold showers and old, torn towels, and no robe at all, even in the freezing winter months.

Getting clean when he lived out on the streets was nearly impossible. If he could afford a student hostel, he would quickly wash himself off, but it was always as a necessity and never as relaxation. That was when he would find lice in his hair or grime underneath his fingernails, and he would cry in the few minutes he was able to, hidden in the secrecy of a small, public shower. He tried not to go to the public baths, in fear that others would see how disgusting he had become.

Showering at Doyun's house was similar to the experience at his aunt's place. Doyun would hurry him and rush him along most of the time, claiming that he should be grateful he was even allowed _that_ much, because a witch was too gross to ever fully clean off so why should they even bother? Other times, Doyun would convince Jinwoo that they should shower together. Jinwoo liked those times even less. Doyun's eyes would run over his entire naked body, commenting on his muscles or on his size, suggesting ways for Jinwoo to become a better “lover” to Doyun, instructing him on proper pleasuring. It made Jinwoo feel vulnerable, Doyun's gaze sweeping over him like a vulture, and he never even bothered trying to clean himself on those days.

But Myungjun was so different. Myungjun _let_ him relax and calm down. Myungjun let him take long, warm showers, and Myungjun ensured that Jinwoo had all of the right cleaning products for his hair and body. When Myungjun joined him, Jinwoo didn't shy away; he relished in the company that Myungjun would offer. They would bathe each other, giggling and smiling all the while. Myungjun liked to use the shampoo to make Jinwoo's hair weird; they would peek out from their own shower curtain, trying to catch a glimpse of what Jinwoo looked like in the mirror, but when they realized it was too fogged over, they would both nearly collapse in laughter.

“Alright, you're all clean!” Myungjun announced suddenly, breaking through Jinwoo's reminiscing. “And just as gorgeous as you were before!”

Jinwoo ran a hand over his face, wiping water out of his eyes, and then blinked up at his boyfriend, who was grinning and passing over the shampoo. “Me, next!” he exclaimed.

Jinwoo chuckled as he worked through Myungjun's hair, trying to be just as gentle and perfect as Myungjun had been to him. “I love your hair,” he murmured. “It's always so fluffy.”

“Because Jinwoo works his magic hands through it,” Myungjun responded, his eyes closed.

“Mm, but it was fluffy _before_ we got together.”

“Because I wanted Jinwoo to see it and fall in love with me.”

“Stop lying!” he fussed, though his smile never once left his face. “The first day I saw you, it was fluffy.”

Myungjun sighed and completely leaned into Jinwoo, his back pressed against Jinwoo's chest. Jinwoo placed small kisses along his neck, ignoring the taste of shampoo. “Well, maybe it's just a skill of mine, to make my hair super fluffy,” Myungjun admitted, “but it's been even _more_ fluffy ever since you came into my life.” He was quiet for a second before whispering, “My entire life has just felt more fluffy since you've been around.”

Jinwoo's breath caught in his throat, and his heart skipped a beat. Myungjun was perfect. This man, the man whom he loved, the man who had chosen to love him right back, was beyond anything Jinwoo could have ever dreamed for himself.

“I love you,” Jinwoo murmured, lips pressed up against a tanned shoulder. He could count some freckles there, and he kissed each and every last one. “I love you.”

Myungjun waited until he felt Jinwoo's lips leave his skin completely, and then he turned draping his arms around Jinwoo's neck and placing lazy kisses wherever he could reach. Somehow, his own touch was warmer than the water, warmer than the heat of the shower.

After a while, they turned the shower off, though it took longer for them to stop kissing. Myungjun whined as Jinwoo drew back, breathless, and said, “If we both have wet hair, your mom will be suspicious.” He ran a hand through Myungjun's soaked hair. “Why don't we stop so you can dry it?”

“I don't want to stop!”

“Come on, Myungjunnie.”

Jinwoo led him out of the shower, though Myungjun grumbled all the while. They dried each other off with the fluffiest towels Myungjun had available. Myungjun giggled at his messy hair and commented on his roots: “We need to do a touch-up soon, don't we? I love it blond.”

“What about another color?”

“Anything you want, I'll love.”

As they finished dressing, Myungjun sighed loudly. “I didn't even get a chance to give you a blowjob,” he commented in disappointment. “I want to try that one day in the shower.”

“What a pity.” Jinwoo wasn't too concerned. Showering with Myungjun was perfectly fine, and Jinwoo didn't exactly care whether or not it was sexual. “Maybe later.”

Myungjun nodded his head, looking quite eager. “Tomorrow,” he said, “We can shower again and I can try to suck your dick.”

“That's eloquent. Romantic. I'm swooning.”

“Oh, shut up. I know you'll love it. You always act like you're too cool for sex, but, come _on_ , you absolutely adore it.” Jinwoo wasn't going to deny it, and Myungjun grinned in victory as he opened the door. “I'll try and get my parents out of the house tomorrow, then, so we can have the shower to ourselves. Or maybe they'll give us some space after I tell- _oh, god._ ”

Myungjun's exclamation was unwarranted and confusing, especially considering the current conversation. Jinwoo had to reluctantly draw his eyes away from Myungjun's shining face to glance over at whatever had shocked his boyfriend.

Another intruder.

Myungjun's mother.

She stood right outside the bathroom, her eyes wide with surprise and alarm, darting back and forth between the two boys. Her mouth was open, though not a word had fallen from it, and she didn't seem capable of speaking through her bewilderment just yet.

It was silent, and Jinwoo felt his face steadily growing all the more red.

_This_ was even worse than what Myungjun's father had seen. _This_ was true humiliation.

Myungjun finally broke through the shocked silence, clearing his throat and muttering, “Hey, Mom. Um...welcome home?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pkease come see my tumblr page ! i think its listed in links before this [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Will you two get married some day?” Myungjun's mother seemed overly excited about the development; Jinwoo wondered if she had lost hope in Myungjun ever finding happiness.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so his parents learn some interesting news :O but will they still like jinwoo???

There was a small distance between Jinwoo and Myungjun.

Jinwoo hated the distance, the small sliver of space that restricted his elbow from bumping into Myungjun's arm or that stopped his feet from finding and playing with Myungjun's legs underneath the table. It was a punishment, in a sense, for allowing his guard to be taken down, for revealing their relationship to _both_ of Myungjun's parents.

Who, judging by their silence, had yet to tell anything to each other.

Myungjun had managed to convince his mom to keep it a complete secret. He hadn't outright _said_ that his father _couldn't_ know, but he had explained that they would both be informed of the relationship at dinner. His mother was seemingly satisfied enough with that, and she had cleared her throat and avoided eye contact as she shuffled to grab her wallet that she had left behind.

(“A wallet,” Myungjun had whispered when they had the place back to themselves again, when they simply sat on opposite ends of the couch and stared blankly at the television. “We were outed by a wallet.”)

Jinwoo couldn't very well blame the awkward atmosphere on anyone but himself. He had been caught _twice_ now in one day. Both of Myungjun's parents were well aware, not only of their relationship, but also that Jinwoo would _gladly_ make out with Myungjun any chance he was able to.

Even at their house.

He sighed loudly, ignoring Myungjun's pointed look, as he picked at his rice and kept his gaze downcast.

Myungjun's parents didn't seem to notice his inner turmoil. They both still seemed to be struggling with something; either what they had seen, or the secret that they thought they had to keep from each other. Myungjun's mother tried making small talk at one point. “Jinwoo, how do you like the food?”

“Oh, it's delicious,” Jinwoo responded hurriedly, even if he had only eaten one or two bites. “Um, thank you for preparing it.”

The woman hummed, a distracted noise of acceptance, before turning her attention onto Myungjun. “It's...it's a quiet dinner. Was there anything that you would like to tell us, Myungjun? Did...did something happen today?”

It was definitely bait. Not very subtle bait, either, as Myungjun's mother was staring expectantly at her son, waiting for the information to be supplied so she could stop hiding the fact that she _knew_ of the relationship. His father, too, leaned in a little closer, looking fairly interested in hearing what Myungjun had to say.

Jinwoo knew that it was now or never, so he looked at Myungjun and gave a small nod of his head, indicating that Myungjun was more than free to begin his explanation.

He expected something dramatic. Or maybe he expected a small build-up, a little time to allow it all to sink in. Myungjun was fond of delivering important news, so long as it was good, and dating seemed like _very_ good news. Instead, though, he simply blurted it out, something that shocked Jinwoo.

“We're dating!”

Myungjun's mother gasped, a little loud, and hid her open mouth behind nimble fingers. “Oh, gosh, I never would have guessed!”

“Mom-”

“Well, Myungjun, _I_ am shocked. Very shocked.”

“Oh, come on, Dad.” Myungjun rolled his eyes, then waved a hand dismissively at his two parents. “Both of you know. I shouldn't have even admitted to anything, oh my god. You both...yeah, you both knew.”

Myungjun's mother whipped her head around and glared at her husband. “Why didn't you tell me?” she demanded. “We're married, and he's our baby! Myungjun, did he figure out before me?”

Myungjun sighed and went back to his food, picking through his small bowl of soup in order to find leftover pieces of meat. “Dad figured out first, but you figured out not long after him. Around the same time, I guess, if we want to be honest about it. A few hours off. His was early in the morning, and you figured out in the afternoon.”

“How did you figure it out, darling?” Myungjun's mother was grinning mischievously as she tugged on her husband's shirt. “Tell me.”

“Myungjun was in bed with him,” Myungjun's father whispered, though he really did ensure that both Myungjun and Jinwoo could hear him. “And they were...you know.”

“Dad, she's going to get the wrong idea!” Myungjun was whining at this point, hopping slightly in his seat and jutting out his bottom lip in frustration. “He was _just_ kissing me, Mom. Seriously, we didn't _do_ anything. I couldn't sleep by myself, so I crawled into bed with Jinwoo, and I'm used to giving him a ton of morning kisses.”

His explanation didn't appear to be needed very much, though, because his mother just ignored it and instantly delved into her story. “They took a shower together! And I overheard Myungjun talking about how they should kick us out of the house tomorrow so that-”

“Do you want to hear the story of how we met?” Myungjun blurted out, snapping his fingers in order to garner the attention of his parents. There was a panic evident in his gaze, and he was nearly out of his seat, trying to stop the story before his mother could tell it.

Myungjun's mother giggled and patted his father's shoulder. “I'll tell you later tonight. Let's listen to this, though. I'm _very_ interested in how they met.”

“Don't...don't talk about it, Mom, that's just weird.” Myungjun leaned back in his chair and glanced at Jinwoo. “Is it okay if I tell them how we met?”

Jinwoo really wouldn't care, as long as the _witch_ portion of the story was slowly weaved in there somehow to lessen the blow it would most certainly have on Myungjun's parents. They weren't expecting their son's romantic interest to be a witch. They weren't expecting their son to even _know_ a witch, let alone be caught kissing one or taking a shower with one. They would kick him out of their house, most likely, and then Jinwoo would have ruined the love and care they held for their son. Would they even associate with him if they found that he was harboring and _dating_ a witch?

He couldn't think of any parents that would really accept it, and as Myungjun cleared his throat to speak, Jinwoo felt his stomach turn.

“It was at the bakery one day.”

Myungjun's mother took a deep breath and covered her mouth with her hands. “The bakery?” she whispered. “That's so romantic! What did you buy?” Her question was directed to Jinwoo, who stared at her in alarm.

He didn't have an answer, having been put on the spot so suddenly, and he didn't quite know what to say.

“A muffin,” Myungjun blurted out. He had always been much quicker in his speech than Jinwoo was, and especially at a time like this, Jinwoo was more than grateful. “It was...I think a banana muffin. Wasn't it?”

Jinwoo nodded his head, deciding to follow along with Myungjun's lead.

“And, um, and we talked for a few minutes before he left, but he came back the next day, and the day after that, and...I mean, _look_ at him! Who _wouldn't_ fall in love with him?”

“He _is_ attractive,” Myungjun's mother admitted, and the grin had yet to leave her face. “Jinwoo, did you keep going back because you also fell in love with Myungjun?”

Jinwoo cleared his throat, composing himself enough now that he could follow along with Myungjun's mostly-true story. “It's...embarrassing, but, um, yes.” It wasn't _false_ , in any case. His flowers did need healing, sure, but he actually could have gone without some of them. Myungjun was just so handsome and smart and sweet, and it was difficult to stay away from somebody who had seemed to love him right back.

“Will you two get married some day?” Myungjun's mother seemed overly excited about the development; Jinwoo wondered if she had lost hope in Myungjun ever finding happiness.

(Jinwoo wondered if he could be Myungjun's happiness forever.)

“ _Mom!_ ” Myungjun whined.

She just ignored her son, turning her attention back to Jinwoo. “Once you get married to him, you should call me Mother!” she offered. “Or you could do that before you two marry. You might as well start practicing it!”

Myungjun's father placed an arm on her shoulder and sighed. “Why don't we let Jinwoo decide what to call us, darling? It might be awkward to call us his parents at this point. Besides, he has his own parents.”

Jinwoo bit on the inside of his cheek, and he saw Myungjun tense up beside him. Still, neither of them commented on it. Discussing his lack of parents would involve bringing up his status, and he was more than willing to follow Myungjun at the moment. Myungjun must have a plan of how to slowly break it to his parents that Jinwoo was a witch. Jinwoo just needed to wait.

“I'm just saying that he doesn't have to ask for permission to call me his mother!” Myungjun's mother announced, and she reached over to pile more meat into Jinwoo's rice. “So we know how you two met, but how did you confess your love? With your father, it was during high school, and he was too shy to say anything to me-”

“Let's just let them tell their story.” Myungjun's father had red cheeks, and he gestured for Myungjun to talk instead. “How _did_ you two confess?”

Myungjun hesitated, and Jinwoo knew he was probably still remembering the night they admitted their love for each other. Jinwoo remembered it clearly, too clearly. He remembered the pain and the blood and the struggle to breathe. He remembered Myungjun's tears falling down onto his face, mixing in with Jinwoo's own. And then he remembered relief, and fear, as he came back to life and as Myungjun collapsed into his chest.

There was a moment there, a mantra Myungjun chanted in an effort to keep himself awake: “I love you, I love you, I love you-”

And Jinwoo, holding onto him tightly, whispered it back: “I love you, Myungjun.”

It wasn't an ideal first confession. Part of him regretted saying it there; he knew Myungjun did, as well, shying away whenever someone _asked_ when they had confessed. He shied away right then, too, his lips tight and his eyes downcast.

His mother looked on curiously. “Myungjun? You...you two _have_ confessed, right?”

“We did,” Jinwoo blurted out. He reached over and grasped onto Myungjun's hand, squeezing it lightly in effort to give himself strength to continue onward. He wasn't going to deny the truth any longer. He wasn't going to lie and make up a false confession story. It happened in a way he didn't expect and didn't want, but it _happened_.

Besides that, perhaps it would be a way to ease into his magic status. Perhaps they would be more focused on his death than they would the _witch_ portion of his story.

He took a deep breath and said, “I was stabbed and left for dead in an alleyway. And...and I _thought_ that was it for me, but Myungjun, he...he found me. He couldn't save me right then. We both knew it. And so he stayed with me, and then when I died, he, um...” Jinwoo didn't continue. He could detect the look of horror that had slowly formed on the faces of Myungjun's parents. Their eyes were wide, focused directly at Jinwoo for a few seconds. His father was the first to break contact and glance over at Myungjun.

“Y-You...you used your powers on a human?” he questioned, voice soft. “Myungjun, did you really bring a _person_ back to life?”

Myungjun nodded his head, still refusing to look up.

“We told you not to.” Myungjun's father seemed conflicted, his gaze darting back and forth between the two boys in front of him. “Myungjun, we told you-”

“I love him, Dad,” Myungjun finally choked out, and he squeezed Jinwoo's hand right back. “And...and he was _dying_. What should I have done? Do you think I should have just left him?”

“No!” Myungjun's mother was quick to jump in, shaking her head and staring at Myungjun in alarm. “No, of course not! We just...for special circumstances, it's...it's good.” She grabbed a cup of water, but didn't appear interested in actually drinking from it. “Myungjun, he's the only person you've brought back from the dead, right?”

“Yeah. No one else.” Myungjun cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. He had tears in his eyes, stuck to his lashes, and Jinwoo leaned in close in order to offer some form of comfort. “S-Sorry. I hate remember-bering it. Sorry.”

Jinwoo longed to embrace him, to kiss his cheeks and wipe away the pain that Myungjun had to feel, the terror that continued to pop up whenever the thought of Jinwoo's death came about. He couldn't do a thing, however, with Myungjun's parents watching them intently, worriedly, so he just rubbed a hand up and down Myungjun's arm in an effort to calm him.

“Was it a mugging?” Myungjun's father asked, directing his question to Jinwoo. “Did they mug you and do that? Or were you involved in something-”

“Da-Dad, stop. He wasn't _involved_ in anything,” Myungjun stammered, relaxing under Jinwoo's hands, finding comfort in his touch.

“But why would someone stab him?”

The question would make it easy to transition into admitting he was a witch. Jinwoo _knew_ that the moment for it was perfect, that he wouldn't find a more seamless method of explaining his magic status. But there was fear that played at the back of his mind, anguish that gripped at his heart.

This would be it.

Myungjun's parents would no longer care for him. His mother would no longer hug him or dote over him or ask him how his meal tasted. She wouldn't make accommodations for him; he would probably end up banned from the household, and she would lament over having shown hospitality in the first place.

Myungjun's father seemed more stern, more level-headed, but that might make it all the worse. He would probably understand the social stigmas behind housing a witch. He would worry over his son _dating_ a witch. They would all be in trouble just for keeping his secret, and his father would hate him for being such a dangerous threat to all of them.

He knew he had to tell. He just wanted to pretend, for a few seconds more, that he had another place to call home, that he had something close to a _family_.

But his parents stared at him expectantly, and he took a deep breath.

Before he could say anything, Myungjun whispered, “You don't have to.”

Jinwoo glanced at him in confusion. “Myungjun-”

“You don't have to.” Myungjun's eyes were filled with worry and concern. He caught Jinwoo's hand again, placing a kiss on the knuckles. “You're scared. Don't push yourself.”

“I have to tell them at some point.”

“You don't.”

“I'm not going to make you live your entire life lying to your parents, Junnie.”

The nickname made Myungjun pause. His chin was quivering and his eyes were red-rimmed as he stared back at Jinwoo. He was struggling not to cry; Jinwoo was struggling to keep himself as composed as possible, as well.

“What's going on?” Myungjun's father broke into the quiet moment. “Myungjun, what's this all about? What is it that Jinwoo doesn't have to tell us?”

Jinwoo didn't wait any longer. He didn't _want_ to hesitate. It was the perfect moment for it, and before it passed, he knew he had to explain himself and the situation.

“I'm a witch.”

As he expected, there was silence at first. Jinwoo swallowed thickly and continued.

“And I-I did a spell in public. It was so _stupid_. I never do spells in public. But I did that one time, and two college boys saw it. They chased me into the alley. They stabbed me. They stabbed me over and over, and I fell. They left me for dead. But it was all be-because I'm a witch.”

He had never explicitly _told_ anyone he was a witch since he met Doyun. Myungjun had figured it out for himself, and he had been the one to tell their other friends.

This was more daunting than Jinwoo could have ever imagined. Though he had been looked down upon his entire life because of his powers, he had at least grown used to Myungjun's acceptance and love. He decided that he quite liked being held and embraced.

And he _knew_ Myungjun's parents would never offer him what Myungjun could. And why should they? There was absolutely no reason for them to love a witch, and he understood that. At least they had been so kind and gracious to him for the short time that he knew them. At least they made him feel welcomed and appreciated in less than a day.

He enjoyed the time they had liked him. He hadn't even expected _that_ much.

Even if they hated him forever, and even if they did force him to leave, Jinwoo decided that he would still like Myungjun's parents.

“A...witch?” Myungjun's mother broke the silence. Her voice held a tremor. Her gaze, previously wrought with concern, now held fear as she stared at Jinwoo. “J-Jinwoo, are you a _witch?_ ”

“I didn't mean to keep anything from you,” Jinwoo whispered, and he removed his hands from Myungjun's, much to the older boy's dismay. He didn't want to pose a threat to the family. He didn't want them to be afraid for their son's life. “We... _I_ decided that...I wanted you to...to get to know me a little bit first. I asked Myungjun if we could-”

“I kept it secret,” Myungjun suddenly exclaimed. “Because I know you guys don't care, I know you guys will like him anyway, b-but...but I didn't know-”

“He's a witch?” Myungjun's mother didn't appear to be paying attention to a word Myungjun said. She gripped at the table. “Myungjun, is it true?”

Myungjun licked at his lips, nervous and unsure, before turning his pleading eyes onto his father. “Dad,” he begged, “please, you have to understand-”

“You didn't tell us he was a witch.” Myungjun's father sounded cautious.

“Dad, he's a good witch! He's never hurt me, he never _will_ hurt me.” He looked back and forth between both his heavily shocked parents. “Mom, Dad, _please –_ he's not any different than he was twenty minutes ago. He's...I love him, Mom. Y-You said he could call you _Mother_. You like him, too, don't you?”

The silence was back, even more painful than before. Jinwoo squeezed his eyes shut and accepted the oncoming hatred, the oncoming fear and terror that Myungjun's parents would undoubtedly hold for him.

He just had to ensure Myungjun wasn't caught in the crossfire.

“If you don't approve of me dating your son, I-I'll leave,” Jinwoo mumbled. All eyes were on him; he didn't open his own eyes, but he could _feel_ the gazes of everyone in the room. “But it's not Myungjun's fault. It's mine. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry for being a witch.”

Myungjun grasped onto his hand, and Jinwoo didn't shake him off this time.

“It's...” Myungjun's father cleared his throat. “It's a surprise,” he responded. “But I...I never once thought that you were a bad person.”

Jinwoo dared to peek through his gaze. Myungjun's father smiled at him, his expression gentle and warm. “When Myungjun was a young child, I remember there was a television show. And this group of children fought off magic users. Myungjun was fascinated. He pretended to be one of the heroes. Except, one day, he asked me if witches were as truly terrible in real life as they were on the television show.” Myungjun's father took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders. “I didn't know. I told him that I didn't know. I told him he wouldn't have to worry about witches, though. My original reasoning had been because he would never meet one, but...but now that he has met one, he still has nothing to worry about.”

It took Jinwoo a second or two to process that statement, and even when he had, he still couldn't say anything. He couldn't even _breathe_ well, replaying those words in his mind, over and over again. He held onto them, as tightly as he held onto Myungjun's hand, and repeated them out loud, his voice wavering and unsure.

“N-Nothing to worry about?”

Myungjun's father nodded his head, then looked over at his wife, who still seemed shell-shocked from the admittance. “I believe that both of us are well aware that you aren't a bad witch. Right, darling?”

She met his gaze and bit down on her lip, unwilling to say anything, so Myungjun's father continued. “Because Myungjun lives with him. Myungjun _loves_ him. And he's been nothing but polite and kind since he arrived. He was born into something he can't control, sweetheart, just as Myungjun was.” He rubbed at her back and smiled again. “And we hated it when people treated Myungjun differently simply because he was a necromancer, didn't we?”

“We...we did.” Myungjun's mother didn't look at Jinwoo just yet, though she seemed to be snapping out of her surprise. “But, honey, a _necromancer_ isn't...”

“He's not even a good witch,” Myungjun blurted out. “He sucks, Mom. He really does. He can't keep flowers alive. He's killed off every single plant I own at one point or another. He messes up his spells if he doesn't get a good chance to practice them. He's the lamest witch ever, but...but he's the best...best boyfriend I could ever want. I love him.”

Myungjun's mother looked at Jinwoo again. Myungjun's words had left the table silent; his father seemed to have accepted Jinwoo, but if his mother wouldn't, Jinwoo would still consider it a lost cause. He _liked_ Myungjun's mother. He liked the care she had given him. He was selfish; he wanted her to continue to care.

“Jinwoo?” She addressed him, and Jinwoo instantly sat straighter in his seat, wiping at his wet eyes and trying to calm his breathing.

“Yes?”

“What...what type of spells do you do?”

Jinwoo didn't expect that, but he would answer whatever questions she had. “Mostly potions. But, um, I...I sold a potion to someone who gave me a spellbook in return. I've been studying it. I never had the chance to practice my magic. My aunt and uncle, they...they didn't like having to house a witch, so I had to keep it secret.”

“Your aunt and uncle?”

Jinwoo nodded.

“What about your parents?”

Her voice was quiet and inquisitive. Jinwoo didn't know if he could answer very well, and so he just shook his head.

“Oh.”

She seemed to understand. Everyone always understood. Parents of magic users hardly kept their children in loving homes. They, too, had a fear of magic, hammered into them from the time they were born. And, even if not, societal pressures ensured that they wouldn't keep their children for too long should signs of magic be visible.

Myungjun's parents had been an exception. Jinwoo's parents had been the norm.

“Then...then I heavily _insist_ you refer to me as Mother, Jinwoo.” Myungjun's mother stood from her seat, grabbing the large pitcher of water nearby and refilling Jinwoo's cup. “Starting from now on, and until the two of you marry, and then years and years afterwards. And you can call me, too, if you ever need to talk – I know Myungjun deleted my number when he left, but I've gotten a new phone since then, and the number has been changed. And I'd like it if we could celebrate the holidays again as a family. You need to start coming over more often, Jinwoo, so I can figure out what you like and what to buy you for birthdays. Are you Myungjun's age? Oh, Jinwoo, please don't cry!”

She set the water down in a rush and grabbed napkins off the table, passing them over to Jinwoo.

He hadn't realized he was crying. He hadn't realized the tears dripping onto the table until she mentioned it, and he hadn't realized how _much_ he was crying until Myungjun started wiping at his face.

The older boy giggled in relief; he, too, was crying.

“I told you, Jinjin!” he whispered, voice cracking as he spoke. “It's alright, Jinjin, I told you it would all be okay.”

Jinwoo knew Myungjun had his doubts. Jinwoo knew that Myungjun believed in the goodness of his parents' hearts, but there was still _fear_ that they wouldn't accept a witch. Still, he had held onto the hope of love prevailing, and in the end, it definitely had.

Jinwoo looked over at his mother and father, trying to make them out through the tears in his eyes, and he bowed his body as deeply as he could without actually hitting the table in front of him.

“Thank you!” he choked out. He still held onto Myungjun. Both of their hands were sweaty, but neither seemed to care. “I-I'll do everything in my power to repay you for y-your acceptance and graciousness, I'll call y-you my Mother, a-and-”

“There's nothing you need to do,” Myungjun's mother responded. Her voice was sweet to Jinwoo's ears. He could hardly believe this was happening. It felt like a dream, being accepted so readily by his boyfriend's parents, people _knowing_ he was a witch and yet welcoming him with open arms. He had expected nothing but disappointment and horror, and yet somehow it was the exact opposite. His arms trembled, and he glanced up again, into Myungjun's mother's smiling face.

“There has to be _something_ I can do for you.”

Myungjun's father broke in, laughing lightly as he said, “Two things.”

“Anything,” Jinwoo promised.

“You have to take care of our son.”

He was already doing that, but he nodded excitedly, regardless, his free hand coming up to wipe at his tears. “A-And the second thing?”

“You have to take care of yourself.”

He couldn't stop from crying, and he leaned into Myungjun, hiccuping into his shoulder and holding onto him as tightly as he could.

His home had now expanded. It was no longer Myungjun and Minhyuk. It was no longer the small apartment, crowded with potted plants and spilled soil. It was no longer the bakery, with its warm smells and inviting atmosphere.

It was Myungjun's parents. It was his sweet mother, and his hard-working father. They, too, had become part of Jinwoo's home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow what a surprise who could've guessed this would happen
> 
> hmu [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)! i'll try to have the next chapter out by the end of next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They're making sure to be nice to you, because they've only known you for a few days, but Mom will start an argument if you accidentally come home drunk at the age of seventeen and puke all over her new rug.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and soooo this is a relatively happy chapter, just heads up if you were looking for or expecting angst.

One of the best things, Jinwoo had decided, about being so readily accepted by Myungjun's family was that he got the chance to experience all of the mundane activities that relatives had to go through. Or, at least, some of them. As Myungjun put it, “They're making sure to be nice to you, because they've only known you for a few days, but Mom _will_ start an argument if you accidentally come home drunk at the age of seventeen and puke all over her new rug.”

“I'm assuming this is from personal experience?” Jinwoo asked, and Myungjun gave an ambiguous shrug of his shoulders.

Jinwoo knew that Myungjun's family wasn't acting as a regular family _would_ act; not around him, anyway. They were kind and supportive and sweet, but he liked to also hear about the arguments and the frustrations and the ability to still hug at the end of it all. Myungjun supplied him with all of that information, explaining his teenage years in vivid detail, allowing Jinwoo a chance to get caught up completely in what life could have offered him, in what it was offering him _now_.

“My dad has always wanted grandkids,” Myungjun mentioned, “and so I thought it would be a little weird telling him I was into dudes.”

“I don't suppose it was weird,” Jinwoo answered, remembering how much Myungjun's father had teased them about being caught in their intimate passion _twice_ in one day.

“Nah. I was about to cry when I told him, too. He was quiet at first after I had apologized that I couldn't give him any grandchildren. Then he reminded me that adoption was a thing, and he still expects grandchildren.”

Jinwoo giggled at the story, glancing over at his boyfriend in adoration. “How about your mother?”

“She agreed with my dad. About the grandchildren thing, I mean. Also she added that she doesn't care who I date, as long as they make me happy.”

Jinwoo _liked_ hearing stories about Myungjun's parents, about how kind and accepting they were of magic users, of _witches_. His worry had dissipated and was replaced instead by fondness for the people he, too, could call his own parents.

“Tell me,” Jinwoo murmured one night, curled up into Myungjun's embrace, “about your first fight with your parents.”

“Are you kidding me?” Myungjun sighed and smoothed down Jinwoo's messy hair. “We _could_ be making out right now.” Jinwoo gave him a shove, and Myungjun, rolling his eyes, said, “It was when I was, like, fourteen or something, I don't know. Maybe earlier. I don't really record all of my fights with my parents. They're not particularly pleasant, and it's usually my fault.”

“Of course it's your fault. Your darling parents would never, _ever_ be at fault.” His statement was met with mock hostility as Myungjun rolled on top of him and began to tickle at his sides. Jinwoo laughed, trying to keep his voice down in fear of waking Myungjun's sleeping parents, batting away Myungjun's hands. “M-Myungjun, come on, just tell me!”

Myungjun sighed and removed his hands, focusing them on wrapping around Jinwoo's body, drawing him all the closer. Their foreheads bumped up together, and as Myungjun spoke, Jinwoo could feel his hot breath. “I was fourteen, maybe younger, and I wanted one of those music players. You know, everyone uses their phones these days, but back _then-_ ”

“You're not that much older than me, Myungjun. I know what you're referring to.”

“Well, anyway, Mom said she wasn't going to buy one for me unless I worked for it, which meant cleaning all of the dishes and sweeping every single night. Naturally, I refused.”

“Oh, naturally.”

“I told her that _everyone_ else in my class had those music players. It was probably false, but I said it anyway, just so she might change her mind. Mob rule, I guess. Which, if you can imagine, my parents have never been fond of.”

Jinwoo thought of their rejection of social norms, of their acceptance of magic users in their household, of their love for a necromancer and a witch. Using the majority as a basis for an argument must have been a ridiculous notion. “You probably should have known better.”

“Yeah, well, that's the argument _everyone_ uses, isn't it? _He did it, so why can't I?_ Or _everyone else hates magic, so I will, too_. Even though, you know, it's good to deviate from the majority. It's good to have fresh new ideas and opinions. Majority rule is what got us _into_ the situations we've been facing.”

“I didn't ask to have a discussion about magic,” Jinwoo pointed out, and he kissed Myungjun's nose. “Tell me more about your parents. Finish your original thought.”

Myungjun snorted, but he continued, “Anyway, I told my parents everyone else in the class had one. Then when they didn't fall for _that_ , I tried to guilt them. _Moooom, maybe people will actually like me if I have a cool music player!_ ”

“Jesus christ, Myungjun.” Jinwoo shook his head, though he didn't draw away from Myungjun's warmth. “You were a little brat.”

“I was _fourteen_. My angsty, teenage years. Mom started crying and telling me that she's sorry I'm struggling to make friends. Dad took her to her room and gave me this _look_. I knew I was in trouble, but at that moment, I didn't even care, because I had made my mom _cry_. I don't like making her cry. So I apologized by cooking dinner and then I broke down when serving it to them and Mom held me and told me that I'm a good son and she forgives me.”

Jinwoo stared at Myungjun; Myungjun averted his gaze.

“And so I promised I wouldn't make her cry again, but...but guess what I did?”

“Myungjun-”

“I ran away and made her cry.”

He fell silent after clearing his throat once. Crickets chirped just outside their window, overlapping with the sounds of city movement in the distance. Jinwoo didn't mind just staying like this, tightly embraced in Myungjun's arms, but he wanted to reassure his boyfriend.

“You did what you thought you had to.”

“But what if it was the wrong choice?”

“Well, not to be narcissistic, but you met me, didn't you?”

“Ooh, you're _incredibly_ narcissistic.”

“I try not to be.” Jinwoo kissed the corner of Myungjun's lips and smiled widely. “She understands, though. Both of your parents understand. They're just happy you came back.”

Myungjun's mother made it clear, too. She told Myungjun every morning how thankful she was that he was sitting at their dinner table once more. “For a while, I thought you had just left me to live alone with my husband for the rest of my life.” She chuckled, then quickly glanced over at Myungjun's father, awaiting his reaction.

He simply shrugged and patted Myungjun's back. “She's a good cook, so I understand why you came back.”

Jinwoo liked those moments, where he could watch a family interact, where he could smile and laugh alongside them as if he belonged, too.

He began to volunteer himself for chores, trying to feel more like a relative than like a visitor. He would mop the kitchen floors for Myungjun's mother and change a burnt-out lightbulb for Myungjun's father. Anytime they mentioned something needing to be done, Jinwoo was up, ready to complete it himself.

“You're making me look like a bad son,” Myungjun commented one day, pouting into his watermelon juice. “Like, their _son_ should be cleaning windows, not their son's _boyfriend_.”

“Then why don't you do it, Myungjun?” Jinwoo offered, holding out the rag he was using. “To show me how a son _should_ behave.”

Yet Myungjun, despite his complaints, refused to move from his seat. He simply groaned and splayed his upper body over the table, lower lip jutting out. “I can't, Jinjin. My bones have disappeared from my body. I'm slowly being turned into mush as we speak.”

“Too bad. I was going to give a kiss to whoever helped me first.”

At that, Myungjun perked up, but before he could do anything, his mother hurried over, grabbing an extra rag and grinning widely. “I'll steal that kiss from Myungjun,” she boldly proclaimed, and she winked over at her son. “Myungjun, sweetheart, you should be quicker next time. I bet Jinwoo's kisses are the best thing in the world!”

“Mom!” Myungjun fussed, and he scrambled from his seat, yanking the rag out of her hands. “Go kiss Dad. Let me kiss my boyfriend, though, okay?”

“Sure. I like him a lot. He knows _exactly_ how to get you to work.”

Myungjun, realizing he had been duped, frowned over at Jinwoo, who simply hummed and returned to his task.

He offered, later that evening, to pick up groceries from the store, after overhearing Myungjun's father contemplating whether or not they could go one day without milk.

“I don't want you to go by yourself,” Myungjun's father muttered to Jinwoo's suggestion. “You don't really know this neighborhood very well. Besides that, it would be rude of us to expect you to go out and get food for _us_.”

“He's basically part of the family,” Myungjun pointed out. “And you guys make _me_ do chores _all_ the time.”

“We haven't because you ran off,” Myungjun's father retorted. “And why don't _you_ go get the groceries, Myungjun, instead of sending Jinwoo on a journey to find everything we need?”

“Can't.” Myungjun flopped onto the couch, next to his mother, and moaned. “Mom, I think I'm suddenly very deadly ill. Feel my forehead.”

Myungjun's mother rolled her eyes in exasperation, then glanced up at Jinwoo. “Make him go with you,” she begged. “Otherwise, he'll just mope around the house until you return.”

“I will not!” Myungjun scoffed, but Jinwoo was quite willing to do anything in order to please Myungjun's mother. If she wanted Myungjun out of the house, then he would get Myungjun out of the house.

“I'll give you a kiss, Myungjun, if you come with me.”

“You can't do that to me again! You _can't_ threaten me with kisses. I can survive without your affection!”

Jinwoo narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Myungjun's parents were looking at him expectantly, and he refused to let them down. “If you don't come with me,” he warned, “then I'm taking a vow of chastity for a week.”

He assumed it would be strange to mention _sex_ in front of Myungjun's parents, but they seemed to enjoy the argument. Myungjun's father snorted, and Myungjun's mother grinned wickedly as she turned her gaze to her son, awaiting his answer.

Myungjun's lips were in a tight line, and he shook his head hurriedly. “Nuh-uh. You won't survive.”

“I survived just fine before you, and I'll survive just fine for a full week. The question is, though, will _you_ survive, Myungjun?”

He knew the answer was no. He knew it even before Myungjun clenched his hands into fists and shot up from the couch to grab his jacket. “You're a smug, little bastard, Jinwoo,” he snapped, but he still reached out to wrap a scarf around Jinwoo's neck. “And if you catch a cold, I'll fucking kill-”

“Myungjun, language!” Myungjun's mother exclaimed, and Myungjun groaned before grabbing Jinwoo's hand and tugging him forward.

“Sorry, Mom, won't happen again,” was his quick apology as they exited the house in a rush.

Jinwoo liked the company, he realized when Myungjun refused to let go of his hand, and when Myungjun leaned into his figure as they walked. It was useful to have someone around who knew the town. It was more useful to have someone around who loved him more than anything else in the world.

The store was small and only had a handful of other shoppers inside, probably choosing quick meals for their weekday dinner. Jinwoo liked the soft, calm atmosphere, and he smiled fondly before glancing down at the list he had been given.

“So, first thing is milk and cheese.”

“Very important,” Myungjun murmured, kissing Jinwoo's cheek. “What else?”

“Rice. Your mother wrote _lots of rice_ with a smiley face at the end. Gosh, your mom is the sweetest!”

“ _I'm_ the sweetest,” Myungjun countered, and he pointed at the heart in the margin of the list. “See? That's my heart. Which makes me sweeter than her.”

Jinwoo silently agreed, though he wouldn't give Myungjun the benefit of knowing that. He loved Myungjun more than anything else in the world. For the rest of his life, he hoped they would always be doing similar things; cleaning windows together, shopping for groceries, visiting Myungjun's parents. He hoped it would be like the families he had always seen, the ones he had read about in his books, the families that created a life he considered to be a utopia.

“I'm not here to argue with you over which of you two is the sweetest,” Jinwoo said, earning himself a scoff from Myungjun. “I _do_ want to know if you need anything that isn't on this list.”

“I put that I wanted seaweed snacks there.”

“You need more than just snack food.”

“Yeah, that's what all of Mom's stuff is there for.”

Jinwoo rolled his eyes, though he was unable to stop himself from smiling. Myungjun was endearing, even in his more childish moods, and Jinwoo felt so pleased they had actually made this journey in the first place. He liked seeing Myungjun unwind and relax in the presence of his parents, and he liked that now Myungjun could no longer fret and worry about how his mother and father were faring, so far away from him. A family had been pieced back together; Jinwoo considered himself blessed that he was able to watch and participate in the process.

He turned down an aisle, a basket in his hand as he stared out at the noodle options in front of him. “Which sort of noodles does she like best?” he asked.

“Cheapest ones.”

“Well, I'm paying, so I don't mind buying something in a better quality. She might like it.”

Myungjun leaned over to kiss his cheek once more. “You know,” he murmured, “I think you're the kindest person in this entire world. You really don't have to do any of this, Jinwoo. You could just exist, and Mom and Dad would still love you. As long as I love and trust you, so will they.”

Jinwoo had known that from the moment Myungjun's parents had accepted him. Still, he didn't _want_ to just sit around and allow life to happen all around him. He didn't want to remain solely as a guest in the family, a fixture that only appeared when Myungjun came around. And he said as much, grabbing an expensive package of noodles off of the shelf and placing it in his basket. “They told me I could call them Mother and Father. They said I was basically their son, too. And...and so I'm going to be their son.” He faced Myungjun when he decided he had everything he needed from that particular aisle. “I've always wanted to actually be a _son_ , Myungjun. I've never gotten this chance, a chance to live a normal life. It was always...it was always different. I was stuck down in that basement, I was treated as a monster, I was considered worthless. But you have _parents_ , parents who love you and who argue with you and joke with you, and I want that, too. So if I act more like a son, then I can _get_ that.”

Myungjun bit down on his lip, nodding his head along to Jinwoo's desires and wishes. Jinwoo knew Myungjun would never refute anything Jinwoo wanted out of life. “Then,” he said proudly, lifting his head up and staring at Jinwoo with a determined glint in his eyes, “I swear on everything I consider holy, you will be like a second son to my parents. Except you won't be a _son_ -son, because that'd make us brothers, and I don't want to date my brother.”

“Understandable,” Jinwoo agreed, leading Myungjun to the next aisle. “I wouldn't want to date my brother, either. I mean, if I had – Myungjun?”

He had hardly turned the corner before Myungjun suddenly ducked away, hiding behind one of the shelves and putting a finger up to his lips, a universal signal Jinwoo understood as _shut up_.

He lowered his voice and moved to stand beside Myungjun. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Myungjun whispered, but he appeared nervous as he peeked out behind the shelf again. Jinwoo followed his gaze, only noticing an older gentleman choosing soaps. “It's just...I know him.”

It was a small neighborhood, so Jinwoo wasn't shocked. However, from what he had heard concerning Myungjun's past, there was hardly anybody in the neighborhood who treated him with even a smidgen of respect. And, from the way Myungjun was acting, Jinwoo was pretty sure that this man was the _majority_ , one of those who believed magic users shouldn't exist.

“You do?”

Myungjun cleared his throat lightly and waited for the man to turn around before grabbing Jinwoo's wrist. “Let's go get other stuff first.”

“Who is he? Did he hurt you?”

“It's fine, Jinwoo.” Myungjun tugged him away, snatching the list out of Jinwoo's hands and scanning it. “Let's pick up the fish next,” he murmured. “We can get the laundry detergent afterwards, right?”

“Myungjun-”

“He was the principal of my elementary school,” Myungjun muttered, trying to ensure nobody else was nearby that he might know. “And...and he hated me, Jinwoo. He'll recognize me. He didn't care when I was locked in a closet overnight, and he didn't care when the older kids would start beating me up. He walked by once, as they were punching me.” Myungjun was tense as he turned back to face Jinwoo again. “But it's nothing right now, I just don't want him to see me, and I don't want to see him. Alright?”

Jinwoo was always appalled at the treatment his boyfriend was forced to endure. After all, Myungjun was an endless beam of sunshine, the brightest light in the midst of darkness, and for someone to so willingly allow him to go through such pain and torment for years, as a _child_ , and refusing to call for a stop was despicable. Jinwoo felt anger course through him, and he glanced over at the aisle they ran from.

“Jinwoo,” Myungjun warned, as if sensing his innermost thoughts. “I said it's nothing anymore. I'm not in elementary school, so we can just drop it, alright? Let's get the fish, and then we can go get the laundry detergent, if he's gone, and if not, Mom will understand-”

“I can get it,” Jinwoo offered.

Myungjun gripped at the list in his hands and narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so willing to get it? Is it because _he's_ down there?'

“No,” Jinwoo scoffed. “Myungjun, seriously, you know I hate getting into trouble. At most, I'll just flip him off-”

“ _Jinwoo_ ,” Myungjun repeated, and Jinwoo sighed, leaning forward to plant a kiss onto Myungjun's cheek.

“I won't do anything, then, to draw attention to myself, alright?” he assured.

Myungjun still didn't look as certain, but he nodded his head slowly anyway, clearly more concerned with leaving the grocery store undetected. “Meet me at the front in a few minutes, then, alright? I'll just grab the last few things and check out.”

“Deal!” Jinwoo grinned and waited until Myungjun had turned around before hurrying back to the aisle with all of the cleaning supplies.

He made a promise to Myungjun, and he was determined to keep to that promise. However, he also made a promise to himself that he was just as determined to keep.

As long as he didn't draw _any_ attention to himself, then, he supposed he could make everything work out properly.

The man was still in the aisle, contemplating now on toilet cleansers, and Jinwoo glanced at him as inconspicuously as possible, keeping his distance and letting his fingers wander over the prices of laundry detergent. No one would think anything weird of him if he was still trying to choose a product; no one was even _in_ the aisle to watch him.

The man's back was to him, anyway, but from his position, Jinwoo could detect all of the items in the shopping basket he had; two cartons of eggs were placed on top, presumably to keep them from breaking under the weight of the heavier items, including bottles of beer and wine.

The entire basket seemed like things that could break, honestly, and Jinwoo smirked to himself.

He had to recall the correct spell, but it was far easier for him to whisper a spell of destruction than it was to actually better society.

(Though, in a way, pissing off Myungjun's old principal would better society. It wasn't the amount of revenge he deserved, but it was a _little_ something to pay him back for all of his years making Myungjun miserable.)

Jinwoo finally decided on a good one, an easy one to mutter without the use of his spell book, and after one last look to make sure he was the only other person in the aisle, he whispered it out, moving his finger along with the correct motions.

The basket's handles cracked, and then detached themselves from the basket. All of the products the man had gathered spilled out on the floor, glass bottles breaking, milk busting open, and eggs probably splattering against their cases.

Jinwoo heard the man curse loudly, and before he could be asked to _help_ with the cleanup, he instead grabbed one of the laundry detergents from the shelf and scurried away from the aisle, leaving the mess behind him, leaving the frustrated man in the distance.

At the very least, he hoped he ruined the man's evening. He hoped the man would go home in a rotten mood, and he hoped, for just a few hours, the man would feel miserable and humiliated. He couldn't do much, unfortunately, even if he _longed_ to, and he was well aware that it would do nothing to actually _help_ Myungjun in any way, but revenge was still nice once in a while. As a magic user, it wasn't often he got the chance to fight back against others; he felt powerful, for once in his life, even if all he did was ruin a man's shopping experience.

But he wouldn't tell Myungjun. As Jinwoo paid for his items, he noticed Myungjun milling quietly by the front of the store, staring over at him curiously and probably _itching_ to ask if his old principal had still been around.

“I ignored him,” Jinwoo stated once they were a far enough distance from the store, from people who might know Myungjun.

Myungjun cleared his throat. “I hadn't asked.”

“You were wondering.”

“But I didn't ask.”

Jinwoo smiled and grabbed onto Myungjun's hand, the one that wasn't occupied with carrying their bags of groceries. “If you had let me, though, I would have made his life a living hell for a while. If I wasn't so concerned about being sent away from you, I would have tormented him.”

“Revenge doesn't suit you, Jinjin.” Myungjun was hiding a giggle, and Jinwoo could hear it in his voice. “Besides, we got what we needed without any sort of chaotic situation, so let's let bygones be bygones and just move on with our lives, okay?”

“I can do that.” Jinwoo laughed in Myungjun's stead, swinging their hands between them. “Because the rest of my life will forever revolve around you.”

He looked over to catch Myungjun's bright, red cheeks as the older boy ducked his head. With another bout of laughter, Jinwoo leaned forward and captured his lips, as plump and soft as they were, in a chaste kiss. Myungjun closed his eyes for the few seconds the kiss stretched on for, and when he drew back, he, too, finally giggled.

“Myungjun?”

“Hm?”

Jinwoo grinned and started walking again, gently pulling Myungjun along after him.“Why don't we let bygones be bygones?”

“That's what I said.”

“Yeah.” Jinwoo brought Myungjun's hand up to kiss the knuckles. “Ignore the past and just focus on the present, right?”

Myungjun's gaze was soft. “Right.”

“So,” Jinwoo pointed down the road, down where warmth and cheery faces and kind words awaited them both, down where he could truly belong. “why don't we go home?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED!!!
> 
> so _boo?_ should be updated next - im hoping i can update it by friday, but we'll see how my schedule goes! until then, catch me over [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnnd we catch up with shifter!

Jinwoo awoke on the last day of their visit to an empty bed and a bright sunrise.

He didn't _know_ it was to be the last day of the vacation. In fact, he had asked Myungjun of their plans just the previous night, as they lay together, and Myungjun had clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“We'll probably head home soon,” he murmured, “because I have to go back to work, and you have to go to work with me.”

“And search for a new job,” Jinwoo gently reminded his boyfriend, and Myungjun had sighed. Jinwoo didn't expand on his desires for something _more_ in life; Myungjun didn't like to talk about that. “Didn't you tell Minhyuk that we would only be gone for a week?”

Myungjun gave a small hum as he played with Jinwoo's fingers. “We can call him and tell him it might be longer. He'll understand.”

“But _you're_ the person who brings in all the money.”

“Once Minhyuk learns proper business skills, he'll definitely be fine on his own, trust me,” Myungjun replied with a small snort. “His menu is amazing, his food is perfect, he just needs to work more on his customer service skills, and he needs to understand how a business is run, and he needs to hire employees, because business _will_ pick up once he develops the proper traits.”

Jinwoo smiled softly and kissed Myungjun's hand. “But that's not right now,” he whispered, “That's later in the future, after he's had a chance to learn. Right now, he's still a young boy, probably struggling to run a bakery by himself. I really don't think we should be gone for longer than an extra day or two.” When he noticed Myungjun's forlorn expression, he embraced the boy closer to him and added, “I want to come back and visit. And I want your parents to come visit _us_. I want them to see your bakery and be filled with pride for all that you've accomplished.”

Myungjun hesitated for a few seconds before responding, “Our apartment is messy. Mom will fuss at me for it.”

“We clean it before she comes, dork.”

As it was, they had made plans to leave in two days; yet, as Jinwoo blinked sleep from his eyes on the day before their last day, he couldn't help but wonder if they _should_ stay another night. He couldn't help but feel wary over something – he wasn't quite sure what it was, either, that he felt wary over. But something stirred within him, his magical energy rampant, and he had to take a few, deep breaths.

It had happened before, at various times in his life, but usually without reason. He figured it was his lack of actual magic being released that caused it, and he decided that he would tell Myungjun that he needed to perform magic in order to calm down his energy.

That would entail finding Myungjun first, however, and so, with a large yawn, Jinwoo forced himself out of bed and stumbled out of the bedroom.

He heard Myungjun's voice coming from the kitchen, and like a starved man being led to food, he followed it blindly, a smile coming across his face when he finally saw his boyfriend.

Myungjun's mother sat across from him, coffee at each of their spots. His father was cooking something or other at the stove, and he noticed Jinwoo first.

“Good morning,” he greeted, raising up the spoon he had been using. “Did we wake you?”

“Huh? Oh, um, no, you didn't.”

Myungjun turned in his seat, returning Jinwoo's smile tenfold. “Morning, Jinjin!” He patted the seat next to him and pulled the chair out, offering Jinwoo a place to sit. “So, Mom, Dad and I were talking, and since we're going to head home tomorrow evening, we thought it would be really nice to have a family picnic today! Dad took the day off of work so that way we can all go out and eat lunch in the park. It's not too cold, either, and we can all make something to take and I think – you want some coffee, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo hadn't been able to keep up with Myungjun's short monologue, too focused instead on staying awake. He blinked blearily as Myungjun pushed over a full cup of coffee.

(Jinwoo didn't even have to look to know it wouldn't even resemble coffee – Myungjun had an affinity for heavy cream and sugar usage in his drinks.)

As he took a few sips, he felt Myungjun's hand rub up and down his back, his finger making little circles and his thumb tapping along to a made-up tune. Jinwoo looked from his mug; Myungjun's parents were talking, bright, cheerful voices loud despite the early morning hours, already composed and ready to start their day.

Jinwoo felt like crying. It had been something he couldn't even dream of, something he had been certain would never happen to him, and yet he sat there with a _family_ , not an outsider looking in, but as part of their circle.

“Jinwoo?”

He glanced over at Myungjun's mother, at her welcoming expression, and he couldn't help but smile again. “Yes?”

“If you'd like to make a dish for us to take on our picnic, you're definitely welcome to, but please don't feel as if it's necessary. I was going to cook a _lot_ of food for us, and we've already prepared some of it earlier this morning.”

“Earlier?” Jinwoo laughed lightly, setting his coffee down. Myungjun instantly took the mug and began drinking some for himself. “How early have you guys been up?”

“Five?” Myungjun's father wondered. “Was it five?”

“I think it was. I heard you guys in the kitchen,” Myungjun commented as he finished off the rest of the coffee. “Jinjin, want some more?”

“Hm? No, I'm good, Junnie. Thanks, though.”

Myungjun's mother stood from her spot, grabbing the empty mugs and taking them to the kitchen sink. “I woke your father up even earlier to ask if he could take the day off,” she said to Myungjun. “It's been such a long time since we've gone on a picnic!”

Myungjun leaned into Jinwoo's shoulder and sighed loudly. “I was in primary school,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into Jinwoo's neck. “And I wandered off on my own and found a dead animal to revive. I'm drawn to dead shit, I think.”

“Language,” Myungjun's mother warned, and Myungjun waved a hand dismissively.

“Anyway, I brought it back to life and then basically ruined our picnic. Number one lesson I've learned – when attending a picnic, don't use magic.”

Myungjun's mother snorted and came back to the table. “It wasn't _your_ fault that someone was mean to you,” she replied.

“I shouldn't have been doing magic out in the open where everybody could see me.”

“ _Maybe_ other people should accept that not everyone is like them. Maybe other people should accept that some people can do magic. It's not that terrible of a concept.” Myungjun's mother looked fondly upon Myungjun for a few seconds before shaking her head and turning her gaze back to Jinwoo. “Was there anything you would like to make? I was going to go to the store to grab some ingredients, so you can just write down what you need.”

Jinwoo wanted to offer to head to the store, but just as he opened his mouth to do so, Myungjun grabbed him and hugged him close, positioned awkwardly in his seat. “Mom has to do other errands,” he muttered, “so if you try to take her place, she's going to say no. Just stay here, with me, and if you want to be helpful, you can just, like, make out with me until she comes back.”

“ _Or_ ,” Myungjun's mother said, and Myungjun giggled, “you could go ahead and work on the side dishes. I have plenty of spinach, if you wanted to make something with that.”

“God, Mom, why are you going to make us work? On our _vacation_ , too. Your poor, overworked son can't take much more of this. Mom, I'm going to faint if you put me to work.”

Myungjun's mother seemed well-versed with Myungjun's antics, and that made Jinwoo smile. He wondered how used to this she was. He wondered how much she had missed Myungjun and all of his dramatics.

“I'm willing to risk you fainting if it means we have some food for our picnic,” she responded, standing from his seat. “Jinwoo, sweetheart, if he doesn't work hard on the meal, you'll have to come up with some sort of punishment. And Myungjun-” She pointed a finger at him; Myungjun's mouth, which was poised open in order to say something, snapped shut. “-it's not _that_ sort of punishment. How on earth did you become so dirty-minded? You used to be such a sweet, pure son.”

Myungjun snorted and leaned further into Jinwoo's embrace. “I'm not pure. I'm tainted with Jinwoo's love. It's all his fault.”

“ _Jinwoo_ is pure. You're corrupting the poor boy.” Myungjun's mother kissed her husband, who had watched the proceedings with amusement. “Make sure they work,” she whispered to him. He nodded his head sternly, and Jinwoo heard Myungjun groan.

Really, though, he didn't mind the tasks he was given. As he helped to prepare the food, Myungjun's father spoke to him (and ignored his son, who was grumbling away as he stirred a pot on the stove).

“I was researching witches,” the older man commented, and Jinwoo glanced over at him, inquisitive. “Most of it was bullshit, but-”

“ _Language_ , Dad,” Myungjun mumbled.

Myungjun's father rolled his eyes and continued, “-but I _did_ read about, um, _amulets_. What does that entail, Jinwoo?”

It wasn't often that someone tried to hold a casual conversation with him concerning different types of magical elements. Even other magic users, Myungjun included, understood that some topics weren't exactly _safe_ to discuss. Typically, after the world had gone to sleep and the sounds of the city were soft and muffled, Myungjun might ask questions, or else talk about his own powers, and together they would try to expand their horizons, but non-magic users, _normal_ people, never seemed to want the opportunity to better understand how magic worked.

Yet again, Myungjun's family was an exception to the entirety of the human race.

“Amulets are usually small, magical objects,” Jinwoo explained, and he cleared his throat. “Things like stones and crystals, really, but most of them can only be utilized to their full potential with a witch's hex. Just like potions, really.” Jinwoo put on disposable gloves in order to better mix the dish he was preparing, and he noticed Myungjun's father listening intently, watching him with interest. It made it easier to talk, and Jinwoo relaxed. “Honestly, anyone can mix up a potion if you have the ingredients for it, but it probably won't work properly unless it's been charmed by a witch. I've...I've taken to making Myungjun some potions, and when I hex them, it strengthens the spell.”

Myungjun's father blinked. “My...my _son_ drinks potions?” he asked.

“They're not dangerous!” Jinwoo assured, feeling as if he might have overstepped boundaries by admitting such a thing. “I promise. It's just a few small potions in order to ward off evil deeds, or, or to make his day go by better. If he has a headache, I make him one for that, and if he feels drowsy, I make him one to boost his energy levels.”

Myungjun's father still looked suspicious. As if sensing the mood, Myungjun then broke in. “In case you're wondering, Dad, I drink them very willingly.”

“I wasn't-”

“And most of them taste perfectly fine, and most of them work just well.” Myungjun snorted as he added seasoning to his pot of spinach. “Though, it's interesting, Jinwoo can make potions just fine, but his spells _suck_. Do you know how many plants I have to revive on a daily basis because he keeps killing them off?”

“I just don't have a green thumb,” Jinwoo muttered in defense of his actions. “But, um, I do have one or two charmed objects I keep around the apartment. I've been meaning to get more, simply because those last for a very long time, as opposed to potions, which have a limited use.”

Myungjun's father nodded, seeming to understand, and he went back to his own task in the food prep adventure. “What about black cats?” he questioned. “I've always heard tales that black cats are evil, because they're used in _witch_ things. Is there any truth to it, or is it just speculation?”

Jinwoo paused and bit at his lip. “It's somewhat true,” he murmured, and he could feel Myungjun's eyes on him now. “Black cats possess magic energy. I guess you could say that they're one of the few magical creatures in the world of animals. I, uh, I used to have one. Sort of. I mean, black cats are drawn towards witches because of the stronger bond of energy. They sense it. So when I lived...alone, there was a black cat that hung around me.”

_Living alone_ was really the only way to describe his homeless situation without outright telling Myungjun's father that he _was_ homeless at one point in time. Only Minhyuk and Myungjun knew about his previous situation, anyway. And only _Myungjun_ knew of the struggles he had faced during it all. Only Myungjun was privy to the innermost details, the information that Jinwoo caged up even inside himself. He had heard Jinwoo's cries in the night, the fears all rushing back at him, and he had become someone to vent to, to ramble to. He listened well; he never once passed judgment, never once claimed that Jinwoo could have done _better_ with life at that point. He just held Jinwoo and listened to all the stories, issuing no complaints at having been awoken so early in the morning. He knew about the lice Jinwoo had in his hair for months at a time. He knew of the days where Jinwoo would starve himself before stooping as low as to rummage through trash for food. He knew of the times the rats would chew at Jinwoo's feet at night, knew that he would kick them off, knew that sometimes he would kill them to offer himself some relief through the torment.

He knew so much of Jinwoo's past, and yet he looked shocked at the mention of a cat.

“Did you name it?” he asked excitedly.

Jinwoo forgot that Myungjun's life revolved around giving a second chance to animals. Cats tended to be his favorite.

“No,” Jinwoo responded, and Myungjun sighed. “I just called it _Cat_. It would usually only come at night. I think it hid during the day.” Jinwoo leaned back in his chair. “If I had food to offer it, I would feed it. It was a cute cat.”

“ _Was_?” Myungjun's father asked. “What happened to it?”

Jinwoo didn't want to answer at first, even under the gaze of both men in the room. Myungjun, however, caught on before a response could be given. Jinwoo could see recognition boiling in his gaze, and the boy murmured, “It's dead, isn't it?”

Jinwoo nodded his head sullenly.

“Did...someone kill it?” Myungjun asked. When Jinwoo nodded again, he prodded further, “You found it?”

Jinwoo wished he _hadn't_ found it, not in the way it was. He swallowed thickly and shrugged his shoulders, trying to push the ordeal out of his mind. He knew Myungjun understood; Myungjun dealt with those horrific deaths on a daily basis.

“Black cats aren't well accepted in society,” was his response. “It wasn't much of a surprise. It's what happens to most of them.”

“It shouldn't,” Myungjun vehemently replied, and he seemed a little more aggressive as he stirred his spinach. “It's just a cat with black fur, is all. Nothing wrong. They've never _harmed_ anyone.”

“But when it's associated with witches, it's different,” Jinwoo pointed out. “Witches _have_ harmed people.”

“But not all witches have. _You_ haven't. But normal people harm _others_ ; sometimes they harm other normal people, and sometimes they harm magic users.” Myungjun sighed before finally removing his pot from the stove. “I don't think I'll ever understand it, Jinwoo. I don't think I'll understand how people who bullied us will be treated normally, but _we_ are ostracized for doing little more than _existing_ the way we do. My powers don't extend much beyond plants and animals; your powers don't extend much behind small spells and potions. We're basically normal, aren't we?”

Myungjun's father, watching the proceedings with growing sadness in his eyes, finally spoke. “Both of you _are_ normal,” he commented. “You just have different abilities than the rest of us.”

“ _Abilities_ is one way to put it,” Myungjum mumbled.

“I'm brilliant at math, and that's why I work in accounting.” Myungjun's father continued as if his son hadn't retorted his words. “Myungjun, you're brilliant at bringing _life_ into everything.”

“It's a different sort of ability, Dad.”

“No, it isn't, because even without using your magic, you still bring _life_ everywhere you go. Do you know how quiet and dreadful it was here without you?”

Myungjun didn't appear to have a response. He fell silent, staring down into his pot of spinach and playing with his fingers.

Myungjun's father continued, a smile coming across his face. “And when you returned, you brought more life into this household than ever before. Ever since you've been here, Myungjun, not a day goes by that I don't wake up with excitement filling my heart.”

Jinwoo, too, couldn't help but smile, and he removed the gloves from his hands. “I felt the same way, after meeting him,” he commented. “It was like I had a _purpose_ , finally, and I'd never felt like life cared for me until that moment.”

There was silence that overtook the household, then, a nice quiet only offset by the bubbling sounds of Myungjun's spinach as the water simmered down. Then, the older boy sniffed and blinked rapidly before grabbing his nearby tongs and transferring his spinach onto a plate. “Both of you are disgusting and sappy,” he complained. His voice seemed to shake a little, and he took a deep breath before speaking again, seeming a little more composed. “And both of you had better hurry up and finish before Mom comes back, because we all need to help her with the rest of the dishes.”

Jinwoo had complied to Myungjun's wishes, though when they all finished, he quickly gathered his boyfriend into a long hug, kissing gently at his cheeks and rubbing his back in a comforting motion. Myungjun's father had given them privacy, too, only coming forward to ruffle Myungjun's hair before muttering something about checking on the garden outside.

It gave the two boys a chance to be alone; as much as Jinwoo appreciated and enjoyed having parent figures around, he couldn't help but feel slightly relieved at their chance to hug without any prying eyes.

“I'm sorry if I put you on the spot,” he whispered to Myungjun, next planting a kiss on the shell of his ear.

Myungjun hummed, burying his face into Jinwoo's neck. His breaths were hot on Jinwoo's skin as he spoke. “You didn't.”

“I'm sorry, then, if I made you embarrassed.”

“You didn't do that, either.”

“I'm sorry if I made you emotional.”

“You always make me so emotional. You know how cheesy that was of you to say, though? It _was_ disgusting and sappy.”

Jinwoo laughed brightly. He attempted to pull back from the embrace, just to stare into Myungjun's eyes, but his boyfriend held on tightly to him. “Myungjun, you idiot, I'm _always_ disgusting and sappy around you.”

“Yeah, but with Dad around, you two are just a hassle.”

“Mm. Sure. That's why you teared up.”

“I did _not_ tear up! Some steam got in my eye.”

“Is that the new excuse we're using in place of crying? _Steam?_ I feel as if we can do better than _steam_ , Junnie.”

Myungjun was pouting; Jinwoo could tell even before he heard Myungjun speak. He already knew most everything there was to know of Myungjun, of his body language and his tone of voice and his masked expressions as he hid his feelings. He had studied Myungjun through their days and nights spent together, and now he felt there wasn't an inch of Myungjun, inside and out, that he hadn't yet explored. “Don't call me _Junnie_. You can't keep softening me up like this, _Jinjin_.”

“If you can call me nicknames, then I can definitely call _you_ nicknames,” Jinwoo retorted. His hands snaked around to Myungjun's sides, and he gave him a light tickle.

Myungjun giggled as he pulled back, finally, and tried to scramble away. This time, however, it was _Jinwoo_ who held on. “Stop!” Myungjun exclaimed, but with his resistance, Jinwoo seemed to try harder. He leaned over and nuzzled his nose into Myungjun's shoulder, grasping at his shirt and planting light kisses wherever he could reach. The act made Myungjun laugh as he stumbled backwards, releasing all the mirth that had been stored inside of him.

“I'm not going to stop until _you_ stop lying about _steam_ ,” Jinwoo responded. He doubled his efforts in making Myungjun laugh, wanting to hear more and more of the sound.

Fortunately, Myungjun was quick to cave to laughter, and Jinwoo felt absolutely blessed with the loud shrieks that fell from the boy's mouth, the bellowing sound of his laughs, as he struggled to get away.

The front door opened just as Myungjun and Jinwoo fell on the floor, a heap of chortling and snickering as they struggled to gain their senses.

It was less embarrassing to be caught in an _innocent_ position this time, and Myungjun's parents, stepping inside with groceries, simply smiled at the scene.

“I hope you two can recover from whatever hilarity just took place,” Myungjun's mother said as she held up one of the bags she was carrying. “I need skilled young men to cook for me.”

“ _Skilled!_ ” Myungjun giggled as he pushed himself up. “Do I _look_ skilled? Ask Jinwoo about my cooking.”

Jinwoo snorted and shoved him. “You can cook meat for your mom, at the very least,” he responded. “Come on, get up.”

He stood up himself, then reached a hand down for Myungjun to grasp onto, but Myungjun seemed much more occupied with digging his phone from one of his pockets. “Sorry,” he said to Jinwoo, ignoring his outstretched hand in favor of pointing at his vibrating phone. “It's Minhyuk, and he's _far_ more important than _you_ are.”

“Sure he is,” Jinwoo scoffed, and he moved to help Myungjun's parents bring in the groceries, only catching Myungjun's greeting of, “ _Minhyuk, I was being harassed by Jinwoo, and you know you better have a damn good reason for breaking through that enjoyment._ ”

As he unloaded food into the fridge, he tried to make small-talk with Myungjun's parents, asking questions about picnics and if they were _really_ similar to how he had seen them portrayed on movies.

(Myungjun's mother looked sad as she gave is shoulder a pat. “It'll be even better than that,” she promised.)

However, he was unable to concentrate more on the conversation when he heard Myungjun's voice cut through, his tone sharp and fearful. “What the fuck do you mean by label, Minhyuk?” the boy asked. When Jinwoo spared a glance over, Myungjun appeared to be shocked, his eyes wide and his fingers gripped harshly around the phone.

Even Myungjun's parents fell silent, staring at their son in worry.

Myungjun didn't seem to notice that everyone was looking his direction. He kept his eyes trained on the ground. “You're telling me that it's a tattoo _?_ Of his _status?_ They're seriously doing that now? Fuck, Minhyuk he's barely an adult...I _know_ you know that, but – does Dongmin know? How the hell did it get past him? Can he do something about it?”

He was quiet again, listening to whatever Minhyuk was saying, to whatever was going on. And, finally, his jaw tight, he nodded his head and muttered, “He can probably help. We'll leave as soon as possible.”

He hung up the phone with no other pleasantries; he didn't seem to be in the mood to _offer_ any pleasantries.

“Myungjun?” His mother was the first to speak.

Myungjun didn't answer her. Instead, he turned and looked at Jinwoo. “Jinjin.”

“Yeah?”

Myungjun sighed and buried his face into his hands. His voice was now muffled, helpless, and soft. “Jinjin,” he repeated, “We're going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all are still enjoying this! hmu [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates are slow bc school is tough work. final semester tho! pls enjoy this chapter!

Myungjun packed their bags the moment he made the announcement, much to his mother's chagrin. She hovered over him, wringing her hands and shaking her head as she spoke, her voice low and desperate. Myungjun, for his part, looked as if he was in tears himself, and so Jinwoo stayed away for the time being, his own bag packed and ready to go. He sat on the couch in the living room, sending Minhyuk texts, receiving nothing in response. Myungjun hadn't yet explained what was happening, and Jinwoo realized that all he _could_ do now was wait.

Myungjun's father looked worried. He stayed near Jinwoo, his eyes never once leaving the bedroom, never once wavering in their concern. “What's wrong with Minhyuk?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Jinwoo realized the question was directed at him, and he shrugged, just as confused as everyone else seemed to be. “I'm not sure,” he admitted. “I've sent him several texts, but he isn't answering, and...and Myungjun doesn't appear ready to talk about it.”

The father nodded; he had a calm demeanor, but his posture – tense and alert – betrayed his true emotions. “I hope everything is alright.”

Jinwoo had nothing to add, nothing to offer, save for an agreement. He, too, had no idea why Myungjun was panicking and packing and why they had to leave so suddenly. Likewise, he had no idea if it was something _terribly_ wrong with Minhyuk.

_He's barely an adult,_ Myungjun had said. _A tattoo of his status_ , was what the anguish appeared to be about.

Jinwoo couldn't think straight, however. His mind was muddled, images of poor Minhyuk suffering at the forefront of his brain. He was unsure who else Myungjun was close to; Dongmin had been mentioned in the conversation, but other than that, there wasn't anyone else, was there?

“Please, Myungjun!” he heard Myungjun's mother cry out, “Please just explain it to me! Why do you have to leave? You just, just got here-”

“We arrived a week ago, Mom.”

“Not even a week yet!”

“Mom-”

“And you've been gone five years. _Five years_ , Myungjun. It might not mean anything to you, but I had no idea what had happened! All you left us with was a note and _Minhyuk_ , who tried so hard to keep it secret!”

Jinwoo listened in, unsure if the words were meant for others to actually hear. But neither of them seemed to be making any effort to lower their voices, and so Jinwoo and an uncomfortable Mr. Kim were subjected to the argument taking place in the other room.

“Mom, there's just...there's trouble back home, okay?”

There was silence for a split second, and then Jinwoo heard Mrs. Kim take a shuddering breath. “Myungjun, _this_ is your home.”

The bedroom door opened suddenly, and Myungjun stomped out of it. His mother followed close behind, her eyes watery with unshed tears and her gaze panicked.

“Jinwoo, come on,” Myungjun ordered, gesturing for his boyfriend to follow him. “We need to get home.”

Jinwoo picked up his bag and slung it around his shoulder. Before he stood, however, he glanced at Myungjun's father, his jaw tight and his hands shaking in clenched fists; then at Myungjun's mother, at the fear evident on her face and her bewilderment and betrayal as to why her son was leaving her once again.

He couldn't just walk out on them with no explanation. He _wouldn't_ let Myungjun do that for a second time. They had made up, they were a _family_ , and Myungjun would throw all of his hard work away if he left right then and there.

“Myungjun.” Jinwoo spoke softly. Myungjun's eyes snapped over to him. “Myungjun, please...sit down for five minutes. Can we figure out what's going on? Can you tell your parents _why_ you're leaving?”

“I did,” Myungjun grumbled. “I told her there was trouble.”

Jinwoo glowered at him. “We're not leaving until we tell your parents as much as _you_ know. I won't drive you anywhere until you tell _me_ why we have to leave in such a rush. I deserve to know, Myungjun. Minhyuk is my roommate, my friend, too-”

“It's not...it's not _Minhyuk_ , mostly. It's...” Myungjun wet his lips before shaking his head. “Jinjin, we seriously don't have time, come-”

“Five minutes. We have five minutes. The trip is _hours_ – we can spare five _minutes_ , Myungjun, to explain ourselves, can't we?”

He knew sometimes that when things went wrong, Myungjun panicked. He didn't tell others what he was worried about, what made him afraid; he acted as if they ought to know. Jinwoo was typically able to pick up on his mood changes and figure things out for himself, but when it involved a third party, he was clueless.

But it was always best to remain calm. Yelling and fussing never got _anyone_ in a good position. He needed to let Myungjun breathe, to let him actually speak, and then, perhaps, he could help in some way.

Myungjun stared at Jinwoo for a few seconds, obviously contemplating his next move. He was difficult, sometimes; Jinwoo hadn't known him for very long, and even he was aware of that. Their relationship had developed quickly. They weren't given the opportunity to experience a soft love, a simple love. Instead, it had been fueled first by attraction, by mutual understanding, and then by desperate desires. Sometimes, late at night, Myungjun would hug him close and whisper into his neck, “I want to know everything about you.” Jinwoo would talk, then, facts that maybe Myungjun was already aware of, important aspects surrounding his life that he deemed useful for their newly formed relationship. He would mention his favorite color, his favorite type of fashion, his favorite date idea. Then, as the nights dragged on, as neither of them could sleep well, the details would become more intimate and more obscure. He would discuss why he liked listening to the rain from inside the house, why he enjoyed the pitter-patter on the window, armed with the knowledge that he would never again be left alone during a downpour. He liked to tease that Myungjun's skin was dark, and while Myungjun was embarrassed and tried to hide his tanned complexion, Jinwoo liked to kiss it all over, sun-kissed skin always warm to the touch. He sometimes cried, wondering _why_ he had allowed himself to be used in a sexual manner those years earlier, why he couldn't gather the courage to leave it all behind from the start, why he couldn't have saved himself for someone he truly loved.

(Myungjun would gather him close on those nights and comfort him softly; sometimes he chose to take his mind off of the past with talks of their future together – other times, he allowed Jinwoo to sob into his arms as he spun such eloquent words, reminding Jinwoo that it was okay to be upset, but it was also okay to embrace what his life was _now_.)

So Jinwoo didn't know Myungjun for as long as Mr. and Mrs. Kim had. He hadn't known Myungjun for longer than Minhyuk, or Dongmin, or even _Sanha_. But he knew his actions enough to understand that Myungjun was, honestly, just as lost and confused as the rest of them seemed to be. He shuffled his feet and looked at Jinwoo with such fear in his eyes, and Jinwoo was taken back.

“It's not Minhyuk at all, is it?” the younger boy asked.

“It's...Sanha,” Myungjun replied. “I don't know what's going on, Jinjin. I _don't_. Minhyuk said, he said that the chief put-put something onto Sanha's wrist, labeling him as a magic user. He _labeled_ Sanha. And Minhyuk is scared. Minhyuk has Sanha over at our place, but – Sanha's dad works for the police. Dongmin does, too. I don't...I don't know if they're involved. I don't know what's really going on, Jinwoo. Minhyuk doesn't know much, he just wants us to look at it and see if there's any way _we_ can get it off.”

Jinwoo wasn't quite following along with the story. He could tell neither of Myungjun's parents understood, either. They blinked owlishly, barely grasping onto the most basic of concepts Myungjun was releasing; right along with Jinwoo, in the exact same boat.

Myungjun sometimes didn't take the opportunity to gather his thoughts, though. Jinwoo had already become aware of that simple fact, and so he stood from his chair, moving the few steps it took to be by Myungjun's side and to gently grasp onto his hands. “Junnie?” he murmured. Myungjun glanced at him, so lost and frightened, and Jinwoo couldn't help but lean in and kiss him. “Hey,” he whispered, “it's going to be alright. Just sit down and start from the beginning. Tell us what you know.”

Myungjun was nodding along to Jinwoo's words – either in agreement, or just to show he comprehended what was being said. Jinwoo didn't care which it would be; he simply sat Myungjun down on the couch before taking a seat beside him.

“Alright,” he said, rubbing his thumb along Myungjun's hand. “So Minhyuk called you. What exactly did he say?”

“Verbatim?”

Jinwoo shrugged, and Myungjun bit down at his lip. “He said that Sanha was at the police station – and Minhyuk wasn't there, he only knows what Sanha told him – and the police chief was trying out this...this _bracelet_ , this thing, on Bin and Sanha. It detects magic users. It stuck to Sanha, because he's, he's a shifter. And it won't come off, Jinwoo, it won't come off and Minhyuk's panicking and Sanha's scared, and he thinks...could you, possibly, take it off of him with magic?”

Jinwoo could see, from the corner of his vision, Myungjun's parents glance at each other in obvious confusion. They didn't know much who Sanha was, save for a few mentions Myungjun might have given here and there when also discussing Minhyuk. And, honestly, Jinwoo didn't know much about Sanha, save for the fact Minhyuk harbored a giant, stupid crush on him, and he could turn into a disgusting roach.

“You know my magic isn't good,” Jinwoo protested, his voice soft. He didn't let go of Myungjun's hands, but he averted his gaze. He didn't want to give anyone false hope; being a witch wasn't a cure-all for things that went wrong in the world. His spells were simple, at best, and they hardly worked well. He never had a chance to practice, to hone his skills, as Myungjun did with his necromancy, or as Dongmin had with his mind-reading. He bottled them up inside, letting out little bursts of energy when he could handle it; nothing was ever structured, however. It would come and go, in little sparkles of stars that showered his hands, or in the destruction of small plants in his path. Magic had always been something to be ashamed of, something to only perform when he desperately needed to.

Claiming that he was capable of handling himself with a spell such as this was nothing more than a lie. But, when he glanced up at Myungjun again, at the hope that was shattered in the boys' eyes, he realized that he could at least _attempt_ the magic. For Myungjun's sake, for Minhyuk's sake, and for poor Sanha's sake.

And, maybe, he could offer advice – if _he_ couldn't get it off, he could research and ask his clients and figure out someone who could.

“I'll help,” he muttered finally to Myungjun, taking a large breath. “Myungjun, I can't promise anything, alright? You know my magic is awful, and I can't...I don't think I can-”

Myungjun shushed him, leaning in for a kiss. When he drew back again, he smiled shakily and shrugged his shoulders. “I'm not expecting much,” he replied, his tone honest and light. “And I think Minhyuk knows, too, that you aren't exactly a high-level witch, and that your skills have yet to be fully toned. But I just want to _try_ to help. I can't do anything but bring him back from the dead, if he were to die, and _god forbid_ that happens. But you're more powerful! You might be able to change _something!_ ”

He seemed a little more relaxed now that he wasn't alone in his knowledge, and now that he had Jinwoo agreeing to offer assistance. He stood from the seats and gestured for their bags. “Let's load these into the car, Jinjin.”

As the two of them stood, so did Myungjun's mother. She didn't seem to fully comprehend all that Jinwoo and Myungjun had discussed, and yet she instantly moved to grab a suitcase, picking it up with difficulty. “Let me help,” she offered.

Jinwoo swooped in, taking the large bag from her, and smiled. “I've got this,” he assured, though she clearly wasn't satisfied with Jinwoo's response. “It's a little heavy, because Myungjunnie decided to stuff every single article of clothing he owns in here-”

“I'm _prepared_ ,” Myungjun argued, and he grabbed Jinwoo's suitcase in retaliation. “Mom, do you want to walk us out?”

“So you _are_ leaving,” Myungjun's father mumbled. He had finally stood up, as well, and looked unsure of what to do, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shuffling his feet. “I...I had hoped, Jinwoo, that you could talk Myungjun into staying with us, at least until we can finish the picnic.”

Jinwoo knew the words were not meant to guilt him; and yet, he still felt guilty, anyway, for rushing out on Myungjun's kind, hospitable parents. They had prepared and planned so much for the picnic, too, and he repaid their generosity by leaving with no prior warnings.

“It's not for good, Dad,” Myungjun muttered, coming to stand beside Jinwoo. He hesitated, staring at the forlorn expressions on both his mother and father, then looked to Jinwoo for help. “We're...we're going to come back. Right, Jinwoo?”

“I wouldn't dream of staying away.” Jinwoo felt homesick already, having to go back to their own apartment, having to say goodbye to Myungjun's family. He still smiled, in an attempt to act as if this wasn't greatly affecting him.

It _shouldn't_ affect him; not as much as it should affect Myungjun, in any case. He had no prior relations to any of them. He had only befriended them within the week. And, yet, he still felt tears spring to his eyes when he realized it would probably be some time before they could meet up again. The drive was hours – they lived far away.

“We'll invite you to our apartment!” he offered suddenly. Myungjun didn't seem to mind, though, if his nodding was anything to go by. “And...and after this mess is all figured out, we'll invite you and take you to Myungjun's bakery, and you can stay with us. There are picnic spots where we are, right, Myungjun?”

Myungjun nodded again, then choked out, “And a beach.”

“A beach,” Jinwoo repeated. He could see Myungjun biting down harshly on his lip. They needed to leave, Jinwoo knew that, before Myungjun caved to the tears that were prickling at his own eyes. “And we'll take you there. Both of you. All...all of us will go. I promise. I just think, right now, this is important. Sanha is our neighbor, and he's...he's also a magic user, and with him being in trouble, I think we should see if we can help.”

He hoped they would appreciate an explanation. As much as he believed that he really could do nothing to truly help, as much as he _knew_ his powers were too weak to reverse anything so drastic, he would rather _try_. He couldn't sit back and enjoy life, enjoy a picnic, watching Myungjun waste away in worry, and armed with the knowledge that Minhyuk would be alone in comforting Sanha.

Myungjun's mother moved first, nodding her head and offering a gentle smile back to Jinwoo. “I would like to come by,” she commented. “I want to see the bakery. Oh, Myungjun, sweetheart, I'm so proud of you!” She hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek once and running her fingers through his hair. He accepted; when she pulled back, he was still composing himself to be able to speak. He nodded at her, gaze watery, and she kissed his other cheek. “We'll have a picnic where you are,” she whispered.

Next, she turned to Jinwoo; he received the same treatment, and he _swore_ the kiss on his cheek left warmth coursing through his entire being. “You're like a superhero,” Myungjun's mother laughed. Her hands trembled as she reached up to brush aside his bangs. “Going out, rescuing people with your magic. Maybe one day, people will write a comic book about you, sweetheart.”

Jinwoo doubted that very much. Witches were hated and feared; besides, they were already in comic books as master villains who were abhorred by readers everywhere. He expected no more exposure than that.

“You might have to be the one to do it, Mrs. Kim,” he teased.

She tutted and shook her head. “If we're a family, I don't want to be called _Mrs. Kim_. Remember?”

He did; he was supposed to call her _mother_. However, it was easier to call her by such in his head than it was to say it out loud. He couldn't remember a time where he had _ever_ called someone his _mom_. He never had one. He never had anyone in his life who tried to become a mother figure to him. The word sounded strange to his own mind, and they sounded all the more strange as he spoke them. “Sorry, um, M-Mother.”

But Myungjun's mother beamed brightly, and she pulled Jinwoo in for another hug. Myungjun's father was right behind her, having already said his goodbyes to Myungjun, and he gave Jinwoo's shoulder a pat. “I hope it's not too awkward to call me _father_ ,” he said.

“No! No, um, Father, it...it isn't.” It was, but it was nice, despite how nervous Jinwoo was to even utter those words. His heart felt like it swelled, finally realizing what it had been missing out on its entire life.

Myungjun's father laughed. “I've never heard anyone other than Myungjun call me that. I think it'll be awkward for a bit. Though-” his eyes sparkled, and he glanced at Myungjun, “I would _love_ someone to call me _Grandpa_.”

“You're not old enough,” Myungjun murmured, wiping at his eyes.

“There's no set age for grandparents!” Myungjun's father scoffed as he turned back to Jinwoo. “Adoption will make _just_ as viable of a child as birthing one would-”

“We're leaving, Dad!” Myungjun exclaimed. He grabbed Jinwoo's hand, glowering at his father, who simply chuckled under such scrutiny. “Don't make Jinwoo nervous like that. He just got parents, and I don't think we need to add on _kids_ until a while.”

Myungjun's father raised an eyebrow. “But you _will_ be adding them to our family, right?”

Needless to say, Myungjun had no issue pulling Jinwoo away after that. His parents waved at them from the front porch. Myungjun's mother, who had held it together after confirmation of their departure, finally seemed to break down, and yet she still stayed by, grinning despite her tears and hugging on tightly to her husband.

Jinwoo could only look for so long before he was forced to focus on the road. They drove away, and the house was out of sight.

His hands were sweaty as they gripped tightly to the steering wheel. Other houses passed, children playing out in the yards, older couples walking their dogs, and Myungjun remained silent all the while. Jinwoo heard a sniff every so often, the only indication Myungjun was even awake at all. It wasn't until quite some time that the older boy broke his silence to say, “I'm not running away this time, Jinjin.”

“Hm?” Jinwoo hadn't expected, out of all the things to discuss, _that_ to be the first one mentioned.

Myungjun stared out the window, leaning his forehead up against the cool glass, letting every bump and turn jostle him. “I know I'm not running away, but it hurts to leave them again.”

Jinwoo nodded his head, though he didn't really understand. He had grown use to leaving places, and there was more heartache if he _stayed_. “It was hard,” he responded. “I think I've grown attached to them, too.”

“They really loved you.”

Jinwoo swallowed thickly. “You're making it more hard.”

“Sorry.” Myungjun took a deep breath. “Once we figure things out with Sanha, for better or for worse, maybe we can look into having them stay with us, like you said. I know a good picnic spot. I scouted it out once, exploring this park, and it's very nice. There's a small pond nearby. And I want to take them to the beach, and I want to show off my bakery. Mom said that Dongmin and Bin had come by, too, to her place. Maybe she can see them, too. She said that Bin ate a lot, and he really seemed to like her cooking.”

“She might know Bin better than I do,” Jinwoo chuckled.

Myungjun lifted his head. “Well, maybe we can get Bin to help us take off...whatever this is that's on Sanha's wrist. And maybe you two can becomes friends that way. He has this ugly dog, Nancy. I brought her back to life.”

“I know. You told me.”

“Did I? Oh.”

The conversation trailed off. Jinwoo wasn't fond of the silence. He wasn't _used_ to the silence, not since he met Myungjun. Myungjun always had things to say, always wanted to talk, and even when he didn't, he would play the television or put on some music. There was _sound_ , there was life, and Jinwoo hadn't been acquainted with a deadly silent Myungjun.

But, he realized, when he glanced over at his boyfriend, he would take whatever Myungjun had to offer. He didn't fall in love with loud, incessant talking. He didn't fall in love with bright laughter and sudden screeching. He didn't fall in love with magic and necromancy and secrecy. He fell in love with _Myungjun_. He fell in love with all that Myungjun had ever held in his life, all that he currently encompassed, and all that he would soon be. There wasn't a single aspect of Myungjun that Jinwoo would ever want to toss aside. He was the man Jinwoo loved, flaws attached, and through the silence, Jinwoo would still love him.

He reached a hand out, keeping his eyes on the road, and wiggled his fingers ever so slightly.

He always wanted to hold Myungjun's hand. Myungjun was the sun on a cold day. When their skin touched, Jinwoo instantly felt as if he was bathing in light, and he sometimes felt as if he couldn't dare look over, lest he be blinded by such brilliance.

(He always looked anyway. He didn't care if he could no longer see; the last thing in his sight would be Myungjun, an image he would ingrain into his thoughts and memories, a picture he would keep inside of him until he died.)

There was a few seconds where Jinwoo thought that maybe Myungjun couldn't see his hand. Maybe it was down too low, or maybe Myungjun wasn't looking. So just as Jinwoo decided to move it back to the steering wheel, it was suddenly taken up.

He didn't have to look, not when he felt a burst of radiant warmth in his body.

“We'll get home at night,” Jinwoo murmured. “It'll be late.”

“Yeah.” Myungjun brought their conjoined hands up to his lips, placing gentle kisses along each of Jinwoo's knuckles. “We can talk to Sanha about everything in the morning, probably.”

“Yeah.”

Jinwoo didn't feel as homesick. He still missed Myungjun's parents, the parents that had so willingly accepted someone else into their family, but he didn't feel as if he left home behind. And as they drove to their cozy apartment in the city, with the dying plants scattered everywhere and the dirty laundry they left laying on the floor, he didn't even feel a sense of longing for _that_ particular home.

He had the car, though, that Dongmin owned and kept clean. He had their bags jostling around in the back seat. He had Myungjun playing with his hand, whispering soft words of affection.

And he realized that no matter how far he might drive, he would never be away from home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im seeing astro in ten days. next time i update this, i will be a changed woman.
> 
> follow my growth from simple aroha to EVEN MORE SIMPLE AROHA EXCEPT WITH CAPS LOCK ON [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im finally baaaack to writing this lmao. we're catching up now to shifter!

Jinwoo left Minhyuk and Sanha with words of advice and gentle reminders to take care. While he was certain they _would_ be fine, especially with Minhyuk controlling most of the trip, he still had such an uneasy feeling in his stomach. They were young and had yet to fully comprehend how the world worked, how _witches_ worked. Honestly, Jinwoo would have felt better if he had gone instead of Minhyuk, but -

Jinwoo smiled to himself. Minhyuk would never have allowed for that. Minhyuk was determined to see the journey through, to be there for Sanha, and Jinwoo's only other option would have been to leave Myungjun behind and tag along.

He couldn't do that, though. He couldn't abandon Myungjun.

He closed the door, locking it behind him, and then turned around.

Myungjun sat on the couch, his arms wrapped around his legs, his face buried into his knees. Jinwoo could see his shoulders shake, see him take deep and heavy breaths, and realized he was crying.

Minhyuk had said his goodbyes; Jinwoo wondered what words had been exchanged.

He came forward, not yet speaking, and sat on the couch beside his boyfriend, biting at his lip for a few seconds before reaching a hand over and rubbing Myungjun's shoulder.

“Myungjun?” he murmured. “They're going to be alright. Both of them – they'll be fine, Myungjun.”

“They’re _kids_!” Myungjun sobbed out, wiping at his eyes. “Th-They’re both kids, Jinwoo! Mi-Minhyuk just turned twenty, and Sanha is in his first year of university – a-and I let them go off on their own to find _witches_. I promised Mi-Minhyuk I wouldn’t even tell Sanha’s parents! I’m letting them do the exact same thing _I_ did! I’m letting them make the mistakes th-that I made in life!”

Jinwoo shushed Myungjun, quietly, and pulled him into his chest, embracing him and running his fingers through messy, brown locks of hair. “Myungjun, they’re both old enough to make their own decisions. You didn’t _allow_ them to do this – they would have gone off whether or not they had your agreement. And I think it’s better if we agree, because at least this way we know exactly where they’re going to go and what they’ll be doing.” He kissed Myungjun’s cheek. “And it isn’t a mistake; you didn’t make a mistake, and neither will they.”

Myungjun shook his head, burying his face into Jinwoo’s shirt. “I-I did make a mistake!” he exclaimed. “I ran from home, J-Jinwoo, I left my parents and didn’t tell them where I was going! I don’t want Sa-Sanha to do that, and I _let him_.”

“Again, Myungjunnie, you didn’t let him do anything.” Jinwoo let his cheek rest on the top of Myungjun’s head, the hairs tickling his nose as he breathed in the scent of flowers and vanilla and something else he couldn’t quite detect (but knew from his time with Myungjun was a _forest pine_ that smelled nothing _like_ forest pine, honestly). “And they’re not doing what you did. They’re simply searching for a way to get Sanha’s label off of him. They’re coming back. We have exactly where they’re visiting, down to the address. Minhyuk is going to take care of Sanha, and I know Sanha wouldn’t hesitate to do the same for Minhyuk.” He pulled back slightly and offered Myungjun a small smile, trying to ensure things would work out just alright. “Myungjun. They’ll get it off. They’ll get it off and then they’ll come back home and you’ll probably argue with Minhyuk about god knows what. Until then, I can take over his position at the bakery, and you can continue with your job, as well.”

Myungjun had red-rimmed eyes with dark circles underneath, testament to how late in the night it was. Jinwoo checked the clock, frowning when he noticed it was past midnight. “Let’s go to bed,” he suggested. “It’s been a long day, and…and I think we’ll feel better if we sleep.”

But Myungjun shook his head, grasping onto Jinwoo’s shirt and staring at him. “I don’t want to sleep. Not when…not when Minhyuk is out there. _He’s_ not sleeping. _He’s_ …he’s gone.”

Jinwoo kissed Myungjun again, this time on his lips, and then waited for Myungjun to continue speaking, knowing full well his boyfriend would have far more to say.

“When you were outside with Sanha, Minhyuk said…he said he was an adult. He said he could make his own decisions, and he wanted to…to go with Sanha.”

Jinwoo didn't doubt that, not for a second. Minhyuk had never let his romantic inklings toward Sanha become verbalized. He kept it hidden deep within him, but Jinwoo caught on. _Everyone_ had caught on. It was impossible not to, what with the way Minhyuk would gaze out at the boy, or the way he stumbled over his words, or the way he blushed if Sanha so much as looked his way. Minhyuk wouldn't let Sanha go off by himself. Minhyuk was _worried_ , frightened, and he would probably follow Sanha to the ends of the earth in order to better protect him.

In doing so, he left behind Myungjun.

Jinwoo had heard of the relationship the two boys shared. Myungjun had told him one night, whispered it to him, keeping quiet so as to not alert Minhyuk of the conversation. The younger boy had been sleeping on the chair; Myungjun and Jinwoo lay together on the couch, watching the credits of some stupid romance movie Myungjun had forced them all to gather together for. And Jinwoo, sleepy and yawning, had murmured, “Junnie, how did you and Minhyuk become friends?”

Myungjun had told the story, his eyes first filled with happiness and with delight, but as it stretched on, he looked grim. He mentioned how mature Minhyuk had been for his age, how great he was with video games, how smart he was with school. He was polite to Myungjun's parents. He dropped Myungjun's own honorifics all the time. He endeared himself to Myungjun's family.

And then Myungjun mentioned the horror of finding bruises marred into Minhyuk's tanned skin, dark spots that had formed on his cheeks and on his neck and on his arms. He spoke, softly, voice wavering, of the tears Minhyuk would shed some nights after he would sneak into Myungjun's house and curl up in bed with him. He would ask, clutching onto Myungjun's shirt, “Why does my mom hate me?”

Myungjun never did have an answer for him.

Jinwoo understood the bond that the two boys had. After all they had been through, there was no way Myungjun _wouldn't_ be devastated letting Minhyuk go. But, still, he understood Minhyuk's desire to travel with Sanha, as well. If it had been Myungjun labeled, _Myungjun_ in that position, Jinwoo would travel with him in a heartbeat, despite who he might leave along the way.

“He promised he would call,” Myungjun murmured, continuing his mumbling and clinging onto Jinwoo's body. “He wouldn't leave me in the dark. And...and he said he wouldn't run away, as I had done.”

“He said that?”

Myungjun nodded sullenly, and Jinwoo wondered if there was a way to call Minhyuk back in order to fuss at him for saying such a thing. Jinwoo could tell that Myungjun was touchy concerning his decision to leave his parents. He was emotional whenever it was brought up, especially now that he had seen them again, _especially_ now that he had seen how his departure had affected them both so greatly.

“Minhyuk is-is right, Jinwoo,” Myungjun blurted out. “He's not l-like me.”

“He ran away from _his_ mom,” Jinwoo pointed out, smoothing down Myungjun's unruly hair and gazing into his watery eyes.

“He had good reason! H-His mom _hated_ him! My mo-mom at least...a-at least never hurt me.” Myungjun rubbed at his eyes and took a large breath before leaning further into Jinwoo's embrace. “I'm s-so scared, though! What if he messes u-up and talks back to the wro-wrong person? Or what if he runs o-out of money? What if someone hurts him?”

“No one will hurt him,” Jinwoo promised. “And I'll make sure they both have plenty of funds. Let's work hard, okay, and put lots of money into the bank for them to use on their way.” He vaguely wondered if it would have been worthwhile to give Minhyuk a lesson on how to spend _their_ money properly, since he had Myungjun's card, but he shrugged off the notion. Minhyuk was smart enough to understand that money was tight for all of them, and while Jinwoo could magically keep money in the bank account, he hated doing so, as it could draw more attention than he would actually desire.

“We'll open the shop tomorrow,” Jinwoo whispered into Myungjun's ear before kissing the shell of it. “And we'll sell as much as possible. I can use magic to help everything taste delicious. And you can bring things back to life more with me around; I can replenish your energy better if I'm close by.”

Myungjun nodded his head, whimpering slightly and wiping the tears from his cheeks. “A-A kiss helps me keep going,” he stated.

“Right.” Jinwoo smiled at him. “And I'll give you a kiss so you can keep going. We'll do as much as we can to make sure that Minhyuk and Sanha find everything alright.”

Myungjun looked more hopeful than he had before, but still, he collapsed back into Jinwoo's arms with a loud sigh, gripping tightly at him and muttering, “I want him back.”

Jinwoo could do nothing to hurry along the journey Minhyuk and Sanha set for themselves. He wanted to, just to help Myungjun sleep better and to help Myungjun smile again, but after the first phone call to Minhyuk, he realized it would take far longer than expected.

“The first witch didn't go well,” Minhyuk said, his voice sounding a little strained through the cell phone. “Don't tell Myungjun.”

“Well, I have to tell him _something_. I'm not going to lie to him,” Jinwoo responded, exasperated with the idea of keeping secrets from his beloved boyfriend. “What happened? Did the witch just refuse?”

He could hear shuffling, Sanha's voice, and then, “Is Myungjun nearby?”

“He's in the shower. I'm cooking breakfast for us.” Jinwoo ran his fingers through his hair after depositing bread into the toaster. “Minhyuk, what happened? Did something bad happen?”

Minhyuk laughed. “Depends on what you think is bad.”

“Minhyuk, I swear-”

“She, um, used magic on me.”

Jinwoo's heart dropped. He gripped the phone tightly in his hands, trying to control his breathing, checking once down the hallway to ensure the shower was still running. “Minhyuk,” he hissed, “what _happened?_ Are you okay? Is Sanha okay?”

“Sanha's fine, we're...we're fine. I just – she managed to slice, um, my chest. It's fine, Jinwoo, Sanha's helping me bandage it and I have medicine and everything. I-I think it might scar – Sanha joked and said you might be able to fix it, but I don't want you using any magic on me.”

He heard Sanha say something else, a little harshly, and Minhyuk respond, “I told you, Sanha, it makes me look badass. Calm down.”

Jinwoo thought their bickering was cute, endearing, but he felt helpless, knowing full well that this was the sort of information Myungjun deserved to hear, and yet it was the sort of information that would only cause him extra worry and stress. “How the hell do you expect me to keep it secret from Myungjun?” Jinwoo asked, slamming a pan down onto the stove. “We _never_ keep secrets.”

“Just...just keep this one until I come home.”

“No, Minhyuk, I don't _keep_ secrets from him! We tell each other everything about our lives, about what we've been through, and-”

“Well this isn't what _you've_ been through. This is what _I've_ been through.” Minhyuk snorted over on the other end of the phone. “I'm only telling _you_ because you asked to know everything that's going on, and you said not to freak Myungjun out about this sort of thing. And you know he'd freak, Jinwoo, if you told him I got hurt. He'd probably come and find us.”

Jinwoo grit his teeth down as he listened to Minhyuk talk, wondering just _how_ the younger boy could be so calm about the situation. He had gotten hurt, and he was asking to keep it secret from _his_ best friend, from _Jinwoo's_ boyfriend.

“And, like I said, it's not that bad. It's just a small cut-”

“ _Small_ ,” he heard Sanha scoff in the background, and Minhyuk shushed him.

“A _small_ cut, Jinwoo.”

“Pass the phone over to Sanha,” Jinwoo commanded, knowing far too well that Minhyuk liked to hide things from everyone else. He said _small_ , he promised _small_ , but in the short time that Jinwoo had come to know Park Minhyuk, he had also come to understand that Minhyuk hated to show weakness. A wound could be a weakness, especially if it was something that would scar over. It wasn't _small_. Jinwoo was aware of that much.

Minhyuk protested weakly, but Jinwoo was prepared for that. He threatened to stop putting funds into the bank, to force Minhyuk to improvise. It was harsh, and both he and Minhyuk knew that the threat would probably never come to place, but it didn't seem as if Minhyuk was in the mood to test his limits. The phone was moved, and Sanha's small voice sounded out. “Hello? Jinwoo?”

“Hey, Sanha.” They had never really spoken before the entire ordeal. Jinwoo wasn't sure if Sanha was scared of him and his abilities, but he figured he could find that out later. For now, he was far more interested in uncovering the truth behind Minhyuk's wound. “Sanha, turn away from Minhyuk and answer me seriously, _truthfully_ , okay?”

“O-Okay, Hyung.” Jinwoo was sure Sanha was listening to him; he heard Minhyuk grumbling in the background, a surefire sign that Sanha was, at least, ignoring Minhyuk's requests to keep it all secret.

“How bad is it?” Jinwoo asked.

Sanha took a deep breath, then stammered out, “H-H-He was bleeding a lot. It's _huge_ , Hyung, it stretches a-across his chest, and there was mo-more blood on the bandage this morning and I _know_ he's in pain, but he keeps acting like he's fine, and I don't know if I'm taking care of it right, I'm just doing wha-what I found to do on the Internet, but I'm _scared_.”

It was a lot to process, but all Jinwoo could think of was how _bad_ it must have been for the blood to continue coming out. He thought of hospitals, and of stitches, and of proper medication; all things that neither Minhyuk nor Sanha could really find at the moment, not with Sanha's label displayed shamefully on his wrist.

His heart ached. He didn't know what he could do.

“Don't...don't be scared, Sanha. You're doing everything right,” Jinwoo assured him, though how was _he_ to know what exactly Sanha was doing? He felt helpless, standing here in the kitchen and letting the toast burn and the eggs turn to rubber, but he wasn't sure how, exactly, he could assist Sanha and Minhyuk. He should have gone with them. It would entail leaving Myungjun behind, but, at the end of the day, at least he could _help_ in some way, instead of listening in from the sidelines and trying to figure out a way to report the information calmly to Myungjun, speaking the truth while not causing a panic.

“How do you know I'm doing things right, Hyung? What if...what if _I_ end up killing him?”

Sanha sounded so weak and pitiful. Jinwoo ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “You _won't_. Sanha, is Minhyuk helping you and telling you how to do things?”

A soft, “Uh-huh,” sounded, and Jinwoo sighed.

“Then it'll be fine. Minhyuk isn't an idiot. Minhyuk knows how to take care of wounds just fine.” He vaguely remembered, late one evening, Myungjun whispering to him concerning Minhyuk's life story, of the wounds they helped each other dress – Myungjun's from relentless bullies, and Minhyuk's from his own mother.

He hated the fact that they were so used to caring for themselves, that _all_ of them had to go through so much pain and suffering, just because of magic.

He bid Sanha farewell, told Minhyuk to call him again as soon as something happened, and then hung up the phone. He placed it on the counter, staring at the displayed wallpaper, of _Myungjun_ grinning back at him, before the screen went dark.

He liked the pictures he took of Myungjun. He liked the bright smiles, or the sleepy gazes. He liked small snapshots into the happiest moments of their lives, and he longed for the pictures to _become_ their life. He longed to forgo the struggles of living with magic, living in a world that hated them and hurt them because of something none of them could control. Instead, though, life had thrust them all into misery and misfortune. Just as Jinwoo thought things were looking up for once, he was reminded that magic users weren't worthwhile on this planet.

Magic users, it seemed, only deserved the bare minimum, small snapshots during the day of happiness and love, while the rest of their lives were spent with the understanding that they were better off dead.

Jinwoo gnawed down at his bottom lip as he moved the burnt toast into the trash can and as he scraped the eggs off of the pan. The breakfast was ruined, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

He heard the shower finally stop, and he realized suddenly that he still didn't know how he could possibly keep everything a secret from Myungjun. He was right when he told Minhyuk that they never hid _anything_ from each other. From the moment they had fallen in love, Jinwoo let everything spill. He told Myungjun things that he had tried to even toss from his own mind, told him of the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his cousins, of the disgusting lifestyle he led while homeless and alone, of the degradation of himself as a human being whenever Doyun was nearby. Every humiliating experience was up in the air for Myungjun to soak in.

Likewise, it seemed that Myungjun hated keeping secrets from _him_. He spoke of his childhood, of the relentless bullying he had endured, of how ostracized he was by children and adults, of the horror he felt when he watched Minhyuk take beatings for him, and of the guilt that settled deep in his stomach when his parents were cast out from society, as well, for sheltering him. He spoke of his temptations to turn on people and the nasty thoughts he had of those who had wronged him.

They didn't keep secrets. And Jinwoo wasn't about to start now.

He waited until Myungjun walked into the kitchen, freshly showered, with hair that smelled of his coconut shampoo and skin soft with extra care. A smile was on his face, a small, nervous one, and he was dressed in clean clothing, though he left a damp towel around his neck.

He leaned forward and kissed Jinwoo's cheek, nuzzling his nose into his skin, and whispered, “Did you burn breakfast, Jinjin?”

He had, and even if it wasn't noticeable by the scent of burnt toast and eggs, Myungjun could probably see the mess on the stove.

Jinwoo took a deep breath. “Minhyuk called,” was his answer.

Myungjun pulled back. Jinwoo didn't need to turn to see his face; he could already feel his gaze, his searching eyes and his fearful expression. “Wha-What did he say?” Myungjun asked.

He had to do it calmly, gently. He had to make sure a panic wasn't caused by his words. He had to let Myungjun know the full extent of Minhyuk's injuries while still ensuring that everything would be perfectly fine.

“He got hurt.”

“What?”

Jinwoo grasped onto Myungjun's hands, placing kisses across his knuckles. “Baby, it's going to be fine-”

“Jinwoo, what happened to Minhyuk?”

Jinwoo rubbed a thumb along Myungjun's skin. “The witch attacked him,” he murmured, “sliced down his chest. Sanha said – Sanha said it's been bleeding a lot, but they have it under control. They know how to dress wounds and apply medicine, and they've been doing that since last night, and Minhyuk sounds fine-”

“He's _hurt?_ ”

Myungjun's voice was wavering, high-pitched, signs he was about to cry. Jinwoo didn't hesitate to pull his boyfriend forward, embracing onto him tightly and running a hand up and down his back. “It's not that bad,” he comforted. “Minhyuk says it'll just scar over. He said it'll be badass. He's an idiot, isn't he, Junnie?”

Myungjun was trying to pull back, but Jinwoo kept a strong grip on him.

“Sanha's helping take care of it, and Minhyuk knows what to do-”

“Let me go!” Myungjun fussed.

“Myungjun, listen, it'll be _fine_. They're fine right now. Sanha would have told me if it was worse than it is-”

“I'm going to go find him!” Myungjun exclaimed, hitting Jinwoo's shoulders. “Jinwoo, _let me go!_ I need to find him, I need to _protect_ him, Jinwoo-!”

He kept hitting Jinwoo, on his shoulders and his arms and his chest. He was pulling and shoving, crying and wailing, but Jinwoo couldn't release him. Myungjun would run if he did, would panic and leave, and Jinwoo didn't know if he would follow through with his threats or not.

“Jinwoo, _fuck_ , let me _go!_ ” Myungjun screeched, and he punched Jinwoo's shoulder particularly hard. When Jinwoo grunted, Myungjun hesitated, but then snapped out, “I _hate you_ , Jinwoo, let me _go!_ H-He needs me! We're always the-there for each other, a-a-and I can't be _here_ while he's hurt ov-over _there!_ ”

The blows hurt. The words hurt more. Jinwoo just couldn't let go, however.

Finally, though, after a few minutes of struggling, Myungjun had given up. He would have collapsed had it not been for Jinwoo holding him up, and he buried his head into Jinwoo's chest, sobbing deeply into his shirt. Fingers came up to grasp at the fabric on Jinwoo's body, and he shook his head as he cried and cried.

Jinwoo could hear the city outside their apartment. He could hear cars and birds and voices down below. He could hear people readying themselves for the day, light, cheerful tones, and he could hear the world moving on as if oblivious to the panic faced by Myungjun.

Jinwoo hated the world. It gave Myungjun pain when all Myungjun deserved was happiness.

Myungjun muttered something, and Jinwoo snapped his attention back down to his boyfriend. “What?” he asked quietly.

Myungjun sniffled and rubbed his cheek up against Jinwoo's chest, resting his ear against where his heartbeat sounded. “I-I don't hate you,” he whispered.

Jinwoo kissed the top of his head. “I know.”

“It came out, Jinwoo, I'm so s-s-sorry.”

“It's alright. I know, baby.”

Jinwoo couldn't hold Myungjun accountable for words blurted out in a moment of stress and fear. It wasn't fair to do that. Besides, Jinwoo _knew_ Myungjun would never mean that. He had made his love clear enough, and Jinwoo couldn't ever doubt that love, no matter what Myungjun would cry out during times such as this one.

“Let's not open the bakery today,” Jinwoo suggested. He could feel Myungjun nod, so he continued. “Let's stay home and...and let's cook something together, Myungjunnie. We'll cook a meal, and a dessert, and we'll call Minhyuk and Sanha again, the both of us, and get all the information we need. We can work on your plants, too, since some of them are still dead, and I can give you kisses whenever you need an energy boost.” He ran his fingers through Myungjun's hair. “How does that sound?” he asked.

Myungjun coughed, and while he nodded again, he didn't remove himself from Jinwoo's embrace. “I'm scared,” he admitted.

“I know.”

“Y-You keep saying _I know_.”

“Because I do know. I'm very smart, Myungjun.”

His boyfriend laughed, though it was a little watery, and then finally pulled his head back to look up at Jinwoo. His cheeks were red and his eyes were puffy and tears stained his face. Jinwoo kissed his nose and then kissed his lips.

When he drew back, Myungjun wiped at his cheeks and choked out, “I just want Minhyuk back.”

“He'll come back. He and Sanha will get the label off, and they'll be back.”

“H-How do you know? What if something goes wrong? What if-if they do what _I_ had done and run away from their problems, J-Jinwoo? What if they just don't ever come back.”

Jinwoo smiled and brushed Myungjun's bangs from his face. “Minhyuk followed you before. He'll follow you again. He likes you a lot, Myungjun. I think you've become his home, and...” Jinwoo sighed softly and allowed Myungjun to hug him again, to bury into his chest and to whimper. “It's alright, Myungjun. He'll come back. People always come back to their home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a changed woman. i saw astro. jinwoo spoke to me. god i love them ;A; (the 6.5 hour drive up north in zero visibility fog and intense rain and terrible northern VA drivers was worth it all) (sidenote my sis said she knew when to not speak to me bc i had a death grip on the wheel - thats why no one talked in my car for three hours)
> 
> COME FIND ME ON TUMBLR [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) and gimme dolla bills so i can see astro some more lmao


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS BEEN NEARLY A MONTH, I APOLOGIZE!!!!
> 
> im predicting about 6-7 more chapters of this left!

There had been no word from either Sanha nor Minhyuk for a few days.

Every single call ended up as a failure, both Myungjun's and Jinwoo's numbers having been blocked. They texted, too, but that ended the same way as the calls. Myungjun even employed Dongmin's help in order to track down the two younger boys, but Minhyuk and Sanha seemed to be refusing _any_ calls whatsoever, and all Dongmin could figure out was that they were somewhere in Seoul.

“I can contact my old chief,” he said, looking helplessly over at Myungjun's forlorn expression. “I can ask him to be on lookout for Minhyuk and-and for Sanha.” He paused and gnawed at his bottom lip. “But I don't know, because Seoul is a rather large area, and my chief is just in the Gangnam district, and I've already been a hassle to him, I really don't think-”

Bin interrupted, grabbing Dongmin's hand and squeezing it gently as he nodded his head at Myungjun and Jinwoo. “We'll figure something out,” he promised. “Seoul _is_ a large place, but the chief was really good about finding people.” When Dongmin glanced over at him in confusion, Bin pretended not to notice. “Besides, Sanha has weird, orange hair, and he's freakishly tall. He'll be impossible to miss! The chief will have no problem.”

Jinwoo knew it was all said for comfort. He wasn't able to read minds like Dongmin could, but he could detect the uncertainty surrounding Bin, even as he seemed so determined. He couldn't blame the boy; after all, Minhyuk was smart and tricky. If he wanted to remain undetected, he had been around both Myungjun and Jinwoo long enough to understand exactly what he needed to do. He _wouldn't_ be caught so easily.

The thought of Minhyuk staying away forever made a lump form in Jinwoo's throat. As he bid Dongmin and Bin goodbye, he tried to swallow around it, but glancing back at his boyfriend just made it worse.

Myungjun went to work and then would come home, exhausted and spent and worried beyond belief. At first, he would fret, fussing for long hours about how Minhyuk betrayed his trust, ran off when he wasn't supposed to, and needed to come back before Myungjun found him and kicked his ass. Now, though, he was a shell of his former self. He seemed to have accepted that Minhyuk would stay away, and he didn't know what else to do.

Jinwoo tried to keep his spirits up the best he could. He pointed out that _Sanha_ , at least, wasn't crafty at all, and had so many ties and connections to his home.

Myungjun countered that easily, laying on the couch, his cheek squished up against a pillow: “He was so willing to leave, though.”

“But he'll be just as willing to return.” Jinwoo knelt down near the couch and smiled warmly at his boyfriend before reaching out to caress his cheek. “Myungjunnie, please, it's okay. If it was _bad_ , then the money wouldn't keep dwindling from our account, would it?”

“But if it was good, they would come home,” Myungjun mumbled. “Or they would contact us. They wouldn't just leave us in the dark like this.” He gripped at the pillow and Jinwoo noticed his chin was quivering.

It wouldn't be the first time he cried in the days since Minhyuk and Sanha had gone silent. At first, it was because he was angry and frustrated. He would curse Minhyuk's name, wiping away tears in his upset, cheeks turning red and hands balled up in fists. Now that he had accepted it all, however, now that he understood Minhyuk betrayed him and left completely, he was weary and sad and worried. He cried more readily, more openly, face screwed up and sobs loud and broken. It made Jinwoo's heart ache to see Myungjun, normally so cheerful and optimistic despite the circumstance, in such an awful emotional state of being, and he longed for Minhyuk to come home now just to show him _exactly_ what he had done, just how badly he had hurt Myungjun.

“I know,” Jinwoo whispered, soothingly. He grabbed Myungjun's hand, easing it off the pillow and rubbing his thumb along the older boy's skin, soft, gentle movements meant to offer some sort of comfort. “But by taking out money, at least it shows us where they are. At least it shows us that they're still...” He didn't know how to finish his sentence, and so he hesitated. They were still _alive_. Minhyuk and Sanha weren't _dead_. It wasn't exactly reason for celebrating, but it proved to both Myungjun and Jinwoo that their friends were still out there, somewhere in Seoul, living off of what little Jinwoo could make, and whatever Myungjun could afford to put into his bank account.

“Tell me again,” Myungjun started, glancing up at Jinwoo with watery eyes, “what Minhyuk said to you the last time we heard from them.”

Jinwoo sighed. Minhyuk had called him days and days ago, frantic and frustrated, practically _begging_ Jinwoo to find it in him to somehow remove the spell placed upon Sanha. Jinwoo, having mapped out their locations, had realized that it meant the final witch listed had refused to help, and he had reluctantly told Minhyuk there was absolutely nothing to do.

(“You have to _try_ ,” Minhyuk said, raising his voice. “You don't even fucking _try_ these things, you just sit around and mope that _your_ magic is useless-”

“I don't mope,” Jinwoo retorted, happy that Myungjun was asleep and in a separate room. He needn't choose sides, and he definitely shouldn't be angry with Minhyuk for feeling panicked. “Minhyuk, if it didn't work, there's nothing I can do.”

“You can't reverse it? Is there _no_ way to fix a spell placed on him?”

Jinwoo paced the dark living room, running his fingers through his hair. “I told you, I'm a low-level witch. I can't do anything when the spell is from a high-level witch. It's the same with necromancers, and shifters; there's levels of skill, and I just happen to be the lowest-”

“You talk a lot of shit, then, don't you?” Minhyuk accused. “You're a fucking witch, and you can't even undo a damn spell? You're a dick, Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo had been shocked with the language and with the sudden insults. He didn't think he deserved it, and he tried to argue back, raising his voice and trying to figure out just _why_ , suddenly, Minhyuk was acting in such a way, but then Minhyuk hung up on him.)

It hadn't been a conversation that Jinwoo wanted to tell Myungjun about, but he did it anyway, intent on not keeping secrets from his boyfriend. Myungjun was equally shocked, and all the more perplexed as to why on earth Minhyuk would say such things and then run.

But Myungjun stared at him expectantly now, and so Jinwoo relayed their phone discussion, his free hand moving some bangs from Myungjun's eyes.

“He called me a dick,” Jinwoo finished, “and then that was it. Nothing more since then.”

“And...you _can't_ undo spells, can you?”

“God, Myungjun, not you, too!” Jinwoo exclaimed, and Myungjun quickly shot up from his position, shaking his head frantically and grasping back at Jinwoo's hands.

“I didn't mean it in the same way Minhyuk did! O-Or maybe I do, but- I don't mean all the awful things he said to you, Jinwoo! I swear, I don't, I just...I was wondering, because you've recently been doing _more_ with your spells. You've been able to actually perform spells you thought were too high-level, and I was wondering that, if you were able to train yourself to take off the bracelet, we could manage to contact them again – Minhyuk and Sanha – and have them come back home. They wouldn't have to run from us, and we wouldn't have to sit around and worry.”

Jinwoo had thought the idea through before. He _had_ grown stronger in his skills, finally being able to practice them in the safety of Myungjun's home, but there was no good way to practice taking off one of the cursed bracelets, unless someone else _wore_ one.

“I told you before,” Jinwoo murmured, “I can't unless I put it on someone.”

“And I told you, I'd-”

“I don't want you to wear it!” Jinwoo moved to sit beside Myungjun, pulling him into his side and embracing him. “Please, Myungjun, don't _ever_ do it. I'm not confident in my skill – according to Dongmin's old chief, it's only a few high-level witches who are able to do this. I'm _not_ , babe, I'm awful with most of my spells, and you know I am, and then you'll be stuck with it on your wrist and-”

“It's stuck on Sanha's wrist, instead.” Myungjun leaned into Jinwoo's touch and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Jinwoo, I wish it was me. I wish that was _me_ instead of Sanha, because Sanha has done nothing to deserve that sort of treatment, and-”

“You've done nothing, either.” Jinwoo kissed the top of Myungjun's head, breathing in his scent and closing his eyes as he allowed his lips to linger in place. “Myungjun,” he murmured, “you've done absolutely _nothing_ wrong.”

Myungjun was silent at first before he gripped tighter onto Jinwoo.

“I'm worse than Sanha,” he admitted. “I've had terrible thoughts of what I should do to people. I haven't forgiven people for the way I've been treated. I'm-”

Jinwoo kissed lower this time, reaching Myungjun's plush cheeks. “Stop it. You'll get nowhere trying to compare yourself to someone who's led a vastly different life than you have. Do you think that I've forgiven the people who have wronged _me?_ My family, my-my aunt and uncle and three cousins. Do you really think they've left anything but horrible, mean thoughts in my head?”

At least Myungjun was looking at him now, sniffling and rubbing at his eyes, but _listening_. Jinwoo needed him to understand that nothing that had happened to him was _his_ fault. Jinwoo also needed him to understand that he was not automatically worse that Sanha for being more feared of a magic user.

(He had wondered that, just the other night, why Sanha was punished when he was but a shifter.

“I'm a necromancer,” Myungjun had whispered, “and necromancers deserve death, don't we?”

Jinwoo held him closer and let him cry.)

“I've wanted bad things to happen to them. Sometimes, I've wanted my cousins to feel as terrified as I did living with them.” Jinwoo wiped one of the tears from Myungjun's face. “One time, they locked me in the attic. It was dark. I was very young, still scared of the dark because of where they made me sleep. This was darkness with no light, not even a _small_ light like I had down in that basement. Just black. I couldn't see a thing. And I cried and begged for them to let me out, to _please_ release me. But they just laughed, and they told me there was a ghost up with me. They said the ghost hated magic users, especially witches, just...just as my mom hated magic users.”

Myungjun looked sympathetic, but Jinwoo just gave him a small smile and kissed his lips. “I've mostly gotten over it now, though. I'm still a little scared of being alone in the dark – especially when I ran away from home and lived out in the streets. It was dark in a lot of the alleyways. And it was dark when I was with Doyun, because he never cared to comfort me, or leave the lights on like you do a lot of the time.”

Usually, Jinwoo was able to sleep in the dark just fine. It didn't bother him much, knowing that Myungjun was right beside him, curled up and snoring and holding onto him. However, from time to time, Jinwoo would feel his mind transport to the past, reliving those awful experiences. He'd always turn on a lamp himself, and it would wake Myungjun up.

“Babe,” Myungjun would sleepily grumble, “is everything okay?”

“I need light,” Jinwoo always responded. “Please, let me sleep with it on.”

And Myungjun would just kiss him, his lips usually dry and his eyes closing again. “Whatever makes you comfortable,” he would mumble.

_Light_ made Jinwoo comfortable, because it was something he never had while living with his family, or with Doyun, or out on the streets. He couldn't, at will, brighten up his entire world back then.

Now, though, he had Myungjun to fix it, and when he had moments of doubt, the bedside lamps were enough to placate him.

“The point is,” Jinwoo continued, running a hand along Myungjun's back, “is that we've all thought of horrible things before. I can assure you, Sanha is no saint in this regard. I'm certain he's hated people before. I'm certain he's done bad things, too. We're all human, and none of you are better than the other.” Jinwoo smiled lightly. “Though, I think I'm biased enough to say that _you_ are the best person I've ever met in my entire life.”

Myungjun snorted, dragging a hand across his cheek to better rid himself of any tear streaks he had left behind. “Jinwoo,” he whined.

“Let me have this moment,” Jinwoo responded, kissing at Myungjun's forehead. “Let me just admire you, and how perfect you are, and how much I absolutely adore you.”

And he did, every single day, wonder how he got so lucky to find a man such as Myungjun. Myungjun never once judged him for anything. Not for his panicked awakenings he'd have in the middle of the night, not for his begging to keep a light on as he slept, and not for his sudden mood swings that would pop up whenever he remembered how terrible his past had been. Myungjun knew _everything_ , and still didn't judge him. Even as Jinwoo cried, relaying how he used to scrub lice out of his hair in the sinks of run-down gas stations, Myungjun still loved him the same. Even as Jinwoo spoke of the lewd acts he would perform for Doyun in order to be fed, Myungjun still loved him the same.

Even as Jinwoo hated himself, Myungjun never once stopped loving him.

Jinwoo would return it. Every last kiss Myungjun gave him, every last hug and every last soft, spoken word of adoration, Jinwoo was going to return all of Myungjun's love.

And he could start now, with letting Myungjun know just how important he was and how he _needn't_ ruin himself in order to test Jinwoo's magic.

“My magic will get better,” Jinwoo promised him. “One day, perhaps, I'll be confident enough to take one of those damn bracelets off of someone's arm. But I don't want it to be yours, and I especially don't want it to be right _now_. I don't know how far I can go with it, Junnie, not at this moment, and I don't want you to live a life that Sanha has to live.”

Myungjun looked conflicted. He grasped onto Jinwoo's hand and held it up against his cheek, nuzzling into it even as he frowned. “I don't know what else to do,” he admitted. “There's...there's nothing I can do to help him. He's in Seoul, probably suffering with Minhyuk, and all I can do is sit down here and twiddle my thumbs.” He bit down at his lip. “I could go look for them-”

“Through the entirety of Seoul?”

“Bin mentioned that Sanha _does_ have interesting hair. And he's tall compared to a lot of people. If we go searching for _Sanha_ , just for Sanha, we could probably find them.”

“Babe.” Jinwoo kissed the tip of Myungjun's nose. “Seoul is huge. It's diverse, too, more than anywhere else you've been to. There will be lots of people who are tall, and lots of people with dyed hair. Besides, if he really didn't want to be found, I think Minhyuk would have thought it through. They would probably dye Sanha's hair again. And since he's a shifter, don't you think he would also change his forms to remain undetected?”

“He can't stay in a shifted form for long,” Myungjun pointed out. “Just like I can't do too much necromancy all at once. Sanha's powers are weak, probably weaker than yours or mine, and so if he shifts, he'll have to change shortly after. So that means he'll remain in his _normal_ form as long as possible, which makes him easier to find-”

“Myungjun-”

“I hate just sitting around here, Jinwoo!” Myungjun pulled away slightly from Jinwoo's embrace and curled in further on himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled his knees up to his body and wrapped his arms around them. “And I can't do a damn thing! I-I told myself I'd always protect Minhyuk – and I could protect Sanha, too, but now-”

Jinwoo stood from his seat and held out a hand, gesturing for Myungjun to take it. “Let's go to bed.” Myungjun shook his head, and so Jinwoo tried again. “Myungjun, sitting around thinking about it won't solve a thing. Let's sleep.”

“Minhyuk and Sanha probably aren't going to go to sleep tonight, so why should I?” Myungjun questioned. “They're probably scared, and all alone, and unsure of what to do next. I don't want to do _anything_ while they're by themselves in Seoul.”

So it brought them back to square one again, Jinwoo realized, and he sighed deeply before bending down and settling his hands on Myungjun's knees. The man glanced up at him, his eyes watery once more, and Jinwoo spoke softly, rubbing at the pants fabric beneath his fingers. “I'm going to practice my magic,” he promised, “I _have_ been so far, trying to figure out something I can do. I've been going through my book, developing new skills, and I know that one day I'll be able to fix _something_ that's gone wrong in our lives. It won't be the bracelet, but...” Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders, trailing off, and he hesitated before he found his bearings. “I do have one spell that might help, if even a bit.”

“What is it?” Myungjun looked wary, and Jinwoo couldn't very well blame him; after all, Jinwoo was notorious for botching any spell he tried, and he had never bragged about his spell-casting abilities before. But for now, all he could do was smile widely.

He pulled Myungjun up from his seat, slowly leading him away from the living room and into their bedroom.

(He didn't miss the pain shining in Myungjun's gaze as his eyes passed over Minhyuk's closed bedroom door.)

“Why couldn't you show me in the living room, Jinwoo?” Myungjun asked, standing there listlessly as Jinwoo closed the door and began to change into his pajamas. He didn't respond to the question, and Myungjun continued. “I could sleep in the living room. Maybe Minhyuk will arrive home, and it'd be important for someone to greet him.”

Jinwoo passed over Myungjun's pajamas, offering another smile. “It'd be important to him if his favorite person in the world was sleeping well,” Jinwoo said.

Clearly unimpressed by Jinwoo's words, Myungjun made no move to change his clothes. “I don't want to,” he murmured. “How _can_ I sleep?” He stared down at his pajamas, clenching them in his hands. “Besides, weren't you going to do a spell? What-what about _that_ , Jinwoo? What are we doing _here_ , instead? It was a trick, wasn't it? For me to go to sleep-”

“I'm only going to show you the spell if you put on pajamas,” Jinwoo fussed.

That sentence finally managed to get through to Myungjun somehow, and Jinwoo folded up Myungjun's other clothes as his boyfriend pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looked tired, even more so than he had before, his eyes drooping and his hand shooting up to his mouth to hide a yawn.

“Sit down,” Jinwoo ordered, gently maneuvering Myungjun over to the bed.

It wasn't too difficult to have Myungjun agree to what he said now. Exhaustion was catching up with him, and the constant days of worry and stress really seemed to have taken its toll. Now, in the dim light of their bedroom, Jinwoo was able to spot the dark circles under Myungjun's eyes, the chapped lips from constant biting, the subtle shake of his fingers as he gripped at the bedsheets beneath him.

Myungjun _deserved_ a good night's sleep. He deserved Minhyuk and Sanha to come home safely, and he deserved nothing but the best. He had been through so much, and just when he thought he was finally _free_ from pain and suffering, it was delivered to him once more.

(Jinwoo really wasn't going to let Minhyuk get away with this. While he understood the sentiment behind it, while he thought protecting Sanha was a valiant effort, he couldn't forgive running away with no thought as to who might be hurt.)

But Jinwoo couldn't really force Myungjun to do anything. All Jinwoo could do was comfort him in the best way possible, and he hoped he could ease Myungjun's thoughts a little bit if he could prove that he was using his magic to the best of his abilities. After all, while magic was a curse, it _could_ make their lives easier and better, and it could also help find Minhyuk and Sanha.

“This spell,” Jinwoo murmured, turning off the bedside lamp and driving the room to darkness, “won't bring back Minhyuk or Sanha. It won't be helpful to them in the slightest, and it won't lead us to them. But it's a step, I think, towards better spells that I'll use to put you at ease, Junnie. I'll learn any spell to make you happy – and this one, I think, can make the both of us happy.”

Myungjun didn't respond; in the dark, Jinwoo could make out shining, hopeful eyes, and he smiled, though he knew Myungjun couldn't see it.

Jinwoo closed his eyes and whispered out his spell, harsh words sounding foreign, even to his ears, and the magic energy within him building and building. He held out his hands to release it, letting his fingers flow with the spell, creating and molding and bringing forth light.

Once the spell was complete, he peeked through his eyes to see his creation, and when he heard Myungjun gasp, he let his shoulders relax and his hands fall.

A small ball of light, invisible only to the touch but soft and shining to the eyes, it floated right above the foot of Myungjun's bed, a bulb with no electricity. It was fascinating and new, something Jinwoo had never tried before, but something he was certain he could get right with the correct amount of determination and new skill.

“It's not much,” Jinwoo said, crawling into bed beside Myungjun, “but, like I said, it's a step up in the right direction.”

He curled up underneath the covers with his boyfriend, whose eyes remained on the ball of light.

“You're amazing, Jinwoo,” Myungjun breathed out, pushing himself into Jinwoo's side. “I didn't know you could do things like this.”

Jinwoo's gaze could only fall on Myungjun. He was brighter than any light, he shone more than any star, and Jinwoo loved him. “I couldn't before,” he admitted. “But if it's for you, I think, I can do anything I need to. And I'll try and find Minhyuk and Sanha. I'll figure out a way to bring them home.” Myungjun finally tore his stare away from the light and let it land on Jinwoo, who swallowed thickly. “I'm sorry I can't offer much,” he whispered, “I'm sorry I'm a useless witch.”

“I wouldn't say that you're a useless witch,” Myungjun replied, “and even if you are, what does it matter? You're my boyfriend. You're the most amazing man in this entire universe, and you made this for _me_.”

“For us,” Jinwoo admitted, “because of the dark, and because-”

But Myungjun shushed him with one well-timed kiss before burying his face into Jinwoo's chest. “I'm sorry,” he murmured, “for panicking so much. I just miss Minhyuk. I'm so worried about him and Sanha. I know they're alive, I _know_ it, but they're so far away, and they're ignoring me, and I want them both here.”

Jinwoo understood, and he told Myungjun as much, planting kisses all over his cheeks. He coaxed Myungjun to sleep, promising that, even if they _did_ come right then, they would surely call first. Myungjun seemed to accept it, and soon enough, he was snoring quietly and gently, breath fanning out over Jinwoo's shirt.

Jinwoo glanced up at his ball of light, at the small milestone he had created, and he hugged Myungjun closer. “I'll do anything for you,” he murmured, though he knew Myungjun had long since fallen asleep. “And I'll bring them back. Minhyuk and Sanha. Don't worry, Myungjun. I'll work and become a better person. I won't be useless anymore.” He sighed and closed his eyes, burying his nose into Myungjun's hair and breathing out one last promise before he, too, succumbed to the pulls of sleep. “I'll bring them home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u all enjoyed this very late addition to the myungjin! THE FEW WHO STICK AROUND I MEAN LMAO
> 
> come find me [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here i am again, super duper late. BUT HEY we're getting somewhere :D

Myungjun was in a rush to get home; understandably so. Minhyuk and Sanha had finally turned up, after what had seemed like endless days of worry, and Myungjun was determined both to figure out exactly what happened _and_ to give Minhyuk a piece of his mind.

“Junnie,” Jinwoo fussed, making sure he held onto his boyfriend's arm as they walked down the sidewalk. Myungjun still wasn't in great shape from his busy day of necromancy, and Jinwoo was unwilling to let Myungjun push himself too much. “He needs to rest. Just ask him about what happened, let him talk, but let's not fight tonight, okay? Maybe tomorrow, after you both had a good night's sleep-”

But Myungjun refused to listen. He was already shaking his head hurriedly, eyes trained straight ahead, alight with both anger and excitement. Myungjun was able to experience so many emotions at once, and because of Minhyuk's arrival, he had finally dragged himself out of the lukewarm state he had been in previously. Jinwoo would have to thank Minhyuk for returning, for bringing Myungjun back to life again.

(Though he would also have to complain to him for putting Myungjun in such a worried state of mind in the first place.)

“I _need_ to punish him for leaving like that. I mean, seriously, why couldn't he have just told us his plans? Out of everyone, you'd think I would understand, right?” Myungjun glanced over at Jinwoo, gripping tightly onto his hand. “I know what it's like. Did he forget that? He was only thinking about himself, Jinwoo, and he was so damn selfish-”

“He was thinking about Sanha.” Jinwoo sighed, leading Myungjun away from a puddle that had formed the night before, from the intense rain that had fallen, rain the echoed Myungjun's melancholy mood. “Myungjun, if it had been me in that position, don't you think you would have acted similarly?”

Myungjun scoffed. “You mean, run away with you to Seoul and not tell anyone?”

“I _mean_ you would do whatever it took to ensure my status stayed hidden.”

“But I don't understand why it was such a big deal! _We_ knew about Sanha, and maybe the police knew, as well, but no one else did. We could have kept it all pretty quiet if Minhyuk had just explained his concerns to us!”

Jinwoo understood that Myungjun was frustrated, exhausted, still a little shaken from Minhyuk's departure in the first place. He was looking for reasons to blame Minhyuk for it all, refusing to see his point of view. Jinwoo also understood that Myungjun's mind would change as he relaxed, as he listened to Minhyuk, as he allowed himself a few days to calm down after all that had happened. And Jinwoo would be there with him, despite his initial disagreement to Myungjun's attitude, to help him when he cried and cheer him up when he was down. Even now, as Myungjun stewed in anger, Jinwoo smiled over at him and kissed his cheek.

He caught sight of Myungjun's lips tugging upwards, trying (and failing) to hide his own pleasure from being loved on.

“Let's just listen to what Minhyuk has to say about it all,” Jinwoo suggested as they neared their apartment complex. “Perhaps it's something important. Maybe there's a really good reason he went off without telling anyone.”

“Maybe,” Myungjun mumbled, but it was clear he wasn't convinced. He stopped when they reached the front door, hesitating for a few seconds, biting at his lip and staring up at the golden numbers that hung from the wooden structure. He was nervous to face Minhyuk, after all their time apart, after their own anger and frustrations with each other. It was to be expected, and Jinwoo, standing beside him, rubbed at his back.

Myungjun looked gorgeous, even as hesitant as he was, bathed in the pink light of the sunset, his hair ruffled by the soft breeze and his nose a little red from the evening chill that had begun to settle in the air. Jinwoo wished he could take a snapshot.

He _wished_ he could, but then realized he had a cell phone, one that Myungjun made him buy, with great picture quality and an already-full folder of various pictures of Myungjun.

One more wouldn't hurt.

He snapped the image, giggling when Myungjun looked over at him in offense. “What the hell, Jinwoo?”

“You look cute.”

“I'm serious right now! I'm not trying to pose for you.”

Jinwoo nodded. “That's why I like it,” he murmured, “because you're serious right now. Because it has an expression that isn't fake. Because it's _you_ , through and through, and I need to hold every inch of you within my pocket, and within my mind, and within my heart.” He put his phone away and wrapped an arm around Myungjun, pinching his waist. “I have my reasons for keeping this photo.”

He never had photos of people he loved before. He had never had anyone he _loved_ before, either. He liked to go through his photos sometimes when he felt down, or dirty, when he felt used and wasted. Myungjun brightened him up; even if his boyfriend wasn't there, the large folder of Myungjun pictures on his phone would always remain.

Myungjun cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. “What reasons?” he asked.

“Many different reasons,” Jinwoo responded, “all of which would probably resonate with you very well.” He hummed and leaned into Myungjun's side. “Like, for example, if you have to go away, or if I have to go away, I'd like to have a collection of images of you to help remind me that you're always _here_.”

Fortunately, Myungjun seemed to understand. He grinned and reached over to grab onto Jinwoo's hand. “I like it,” he whispered, “and I will _always_ be with you, no matter what.”

“Not if I were to get a job-”

“Let's not discuss that at the moment.”

Jinwoo rolled his eyes, but he was too happy that Myungjun saw _his_ view and accepted it graciously. “I'm glad you see where I'm coming from,” he said, and Myungjun nodded. “I'm glad that you listened to me and, even if it seemed weird to you at first, understood where I was coming from and why I do these things.” Myungjun nodded again, though his smile was disappearing as recognition began to light in his eyes. “And I can only hope that, one day, if someone else has to reason through with you something they did, you would do good to listen well to them.”

Myungjun pursed his lips. “Is this about Minhyuk?”

“It's a similar concept.” Jinwoo grabbed the keys to their apartment and handed them off to Myungjun, slipping them into his hands and kissing his cheek. “Understand his reasoning. Accept it, okay? And just remain his close friend. Remain someone he knows he can trust.”

As they opened the door and peeked inside, they both noticed Minhyuk sitting on the couch, fiddling with the television remote and awkwardly meeting their gaze. He looked downcast, worried, and Jinwoo's heart went out to him. After all, he was still very young, still very much looked down upon for his relationship with magic users, and yet he had tried as best he could to protect them, to protect _all_ of them.

Myungjun was the first to break the silence that had settled through the living room. He sat down, turning his eyes upon the muted show on the television, then said, “Tell me the whole story, Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk's voice was shaky at first, nervous and unsure. It was a sure change from the Minhyuk that had left with Sanha weeks before, bursting with confidence and determination. Jinwoo was certain that the journey hadn't changed him _that_ much. Rather, it seemed, it was Myungjun that made him hesitant. He was looking for Myungjun's acceptance and love, and he probably believed that Myungjun felt too betrayed to love him again.

But Jinwoo knew that wasn't the case. Myungjun had already reached over and grabbed onto Minhyuk's hands, holding them tightly, squeezing when Minhyuk detailed a particularly rough instance of his journey with Sanha.

He discussed having been wounded by the first witch. He showed off his scar, told Myungjun it really wasn't that big of a deal, pretended he didn't see Myungjun hide his tears.

He talked about his father. Jinwoo _knew_ Minhyuk's father was a magic user, had been told as much before by Myungjun, but he hadn't been aware that Minhyuk's father was a _witch_. It seemed so bizarre, but, then again, it explained why Minhyuk was seemingly okay with his roommate situation and with all other magic users. He had grown up with it, was _used_ to it, and saw nothing remotely evil about witches and necromancers and the sort.

Jinwoo longed to ask questions. He wanted to know if Minhyuk's father had a spell book, or if he ever showed off powerful spells, or if Minhyuk ever once felt scared to have a witch as a father. But, the deeper into the story Minhyuk delved, the harder it became for the boy to keep a straight face and to stop his chin from quivering. After all, he saw his father _dead_ , days after he had taken his life, and surely that must make quite an impact. Jinwoo wouldn't bring it up just yet. He would ask later, when the wounds had some time to heal, when it wasn't so fresh in his mind. For the moment, all he could do was offer his condolences and grab extra tissues when Myungjun gestured for them.

“The third witch was the most difficult,” Minhyuk murmured, wiping at his eyes and offering Jinwoo a small smile. “The witches we met aren't as pleasant as you are, Jinwoo.”

“Of course they aren't!” Myungjun exclaimed, looking proud as he nudged his boyfriend's shoulder. “Jinwoo is a rare breed of _human_ , just remember that. You won't ever find someone as perfect, as handsome, as sweet-”

“Sanha beats him in all of those categories.”

Myungjun snorted, pretending to be disgusted with Minhyuk's words. “I'm going to beat you up for _that_ , Minhyuk, so just finish the story so I can destroy you.”

Minhyuk giggled and continued, “She refused to take the bracelet off of Sanha. And...I think that's when it just became a mess. Sanha, um...” Minhyuk cleared his throat. “He tried to take the bracelet off himself.”

Jinwoo raised his eyebrows. “Take it off himself?” he repeated, and when he glanced at Myungjun, he realized his boyfriend looked just as confused. “How can he do that? His magic isn't capable of taking off bracelets.”

“He, uh...” Minhyuk hesitated again, picking at his jeans, then muttered, “You guys can't look for it on his wrist, alright? You can't _mention_ it. He's upset he did it, and he doesn't like to talk about it.” He waited for both Myungjun and Jinwoo to give their promise, and then he took a deep breath, “He tried to cut it out of his skin.”

Jinwoo took a sharp intake of breath as Myungjun stared at Minhyuk in alarm. “Fucking _christ_ ,” Jinwoo hissed, running his fingers through his hair. He couldn't fathom the pain Sanha must have felt, the fear the boy must have been in as he tried to slice apart his own skin. However, he could definitely understand the desperation Sanha would have felt, the hopelessness of the entire situation, that would drive him to that point.

But Sanha was always so sweet, so polite, so _young_. Maybe there wasn't much of an age difference between him and Minhyuk, but he always seemed years younger than the rest of them. He was untainted by the same struggles they all went through, and Jinwoo would have liked for it to stay that way. He didn't want Sanha to know how horrible the world truly was to magic users.

“It's scarred over,” Minhyuk said, “and he's hiding it with my wristband still. But don't...don't draw attention to it. He regrets having done it, he really does, and if you bring it up, or if you even keep looking down at his hand, he'll keep remembering it.”

Jinwoo was the first to nod, and to break the silence that had befallen in the small apartment. “We won't,” he promised, rubbing Myungjun's shoulder. “Just let us know if he's having any issues, or if he gets too nervous or scared – I might have some potions to help with that. I mean, if he'll accept them. I understand if he won't, because it's hexed and he's probably not very trusting of witches, especially at this-”

“He likes you, Jinwoo.” Minhyuk smiled, a little amused from Jinwoo's rambling. “Honestly, he truly does. He thinks you're nice. And he knows you're not like the witches we met. He _knows_ that because Myungjun and I both trust you with our lives, you're perfectly fine.”

Despite having lived with accepting people for a little bit of time now, and despite _knowing_ full well that Myungjun adored him and even Minhyuk was fond of him, it was still so different to have people just readily accept him for who he was. It was different to not have to hide the fact he was a witch to his closest friends, and to _still_ have them treat him well. He was too used to being looked down upon and cast aside, lower even than dirt, doing whatever he was told because otherwise he would be out on the streets.

Even Sanha, though, liked him well enough. It was weird. Jinwoo nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat and leaning in closer to Myungjun, who eagerly returned the embrace.

“Did you guys go to Seoul after that?” Myungjun asked, changing the subject quickly. He pressed a small kiss to the side of Jinwoo's head, continuing, “Because we _knew_ you were in Seoul. I kept checking my bank account.”

“Yeah. Sorry, uh, sorry about that.” Minhyuk cleared his throat and glanced awkwardly over at Jinwoo. “And sorry for being a dick to you.”

Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders and offered him a smile. “It's fine. After learning all of this, I'm not very surprised.” If _he_ was in Minhyuk's position, and if it was Myungjun instead of Sanha, Jinwoo would have acted in a similar manner. He couldn't bear to watch Myungjun self-destruct, to watch him scar himself in fear and desperation, and he would have let loose a few choice words to whomever couldn't help, as well. He understood, once more, the entire situation now that Minhyuk was given the chance to explain it.

“Sanha was going to go on his own,” Minhyuk explained, glancing at Myungjun. “I didn't want him to be by himself.” He waited until Myungjun nodded his head, and then sighed loudly. “It didn't go as planned, really. I kept running out of money. Or, _you guys_ kept running out of money. The police got involved twice because I holed us up in a hotel room.”

“Oh my god,” Myungjun groaned, slapping a hand over his face. “You can't even run away and be stealthy, can you? Jinwoo and I will have to give you some lessons.”

“It turned out good! Because someone in the police department was a witch. They got the bracelet off of Sanha.”

Jinwoo blinked, and Myungjun sat up straight, looking quite interested. “Who?” he asked. “Was it someone you knew? It must have been, if they were willing to take it off of Sanha and risk their _own_ safety for him.”

“Not someone we knew, no. But someone who just wanted to offer help.”

Jinwoo pursed his lips and muttered, “If it was in the Gangam district, I know Dongmin and Bin used to work there, so maybe it was someone who knew one of them.” He glanced over at Minhyuk, over at his raised eyebrows and half-smile, and added, “And I think Minhyuk knows _exactly_ who it is.”

“Not allowed to say,” Minhyuk responded.

Myungjun gasped and shook Minhyuk's shoulder. “You _do_ know! Was it the chief? Dongmin always talked fondly of him, and-”

“Not allowed to say,” Minhyuk repeated himself. Myungjun groaned and fell back onto the couch, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout. “Oh, come on, Myungjun. I have to protect his identity. I don't think he wants people to know he's a witch.”

“So what you're saying is that it _is_ the chief?”

Minhyuk was quiet for a second before standing from his seat. “I'm going to go make sure Sanha's doing well,” he stated, ignoring Myungjun's question. “And apologize to his parents for everything that happened in the first place.”

“It is the chief,” Myungjun whispered to Jinwoo.

“I'll be back tonight, Myungjun, so Jinwoo should cook some dinner for all of us.”

Jinwoo raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he commented. “You come back and just expect _me_ to do all of the cooking for everyone? Maybe I'm busy tonight. Maybe Myungjun and I had plans-”

“Did we have plans?” Myungjun was still whispering, but it was certainly loud enough that Minhyuk heard.

The boy smirked and shrugged his shoulders just as Myungjun seemed to have gathered he should have kept quiet. “It's good to be back,” Minhyuk said, grabbing his jacket. “I have to say, I missed stupidity in the household.”

Myungjun fussed, flinging across as many insults as possible at his friend until Minhyuk left, scooting to the apartment just next door, no doubt prepared (and willing) to take the fall for Sanha. When they were alone again, Jinwoo stood from his spot and pulled Myungjun up with him. “You good now?” he asked, kissing Myungjun's forehead. “Now that Minhyuk is back, now that things are fine again?”

Caving instantly to his touch, Myungjun cooed lightly and cuddled closer to Jinwoo. “Mm,” he confirmed. “Things might be mostly back to normal.” He kissed Jinwoo's cheek, then added, “Except, Sanha's dad is still out of a job. And I _know_ that's a big blow to the entire family. I know Sanha still blames himself for it.” As he played with the buttons on Jinwoo's shirt, he scrunched his nose up in thought. “I wish there was something we could do.”

Jinwoo longed to do something, as well. He realized it the next day, just how much Sanha's family was hurting, when Minhyuk complained to him that Sanha still felt at fault for his family's misfortunes.

“He's spending time with Sanha now,” Jinwoo murmured to Dongmin and Bin one afternoon, as they took a break from detective duties to come eat at the bakery. “I think helping his mother go shopping for new furniture or something. They sold their nice kitchen table to get something a little smaller and more affordable.” He passed them each a cupcake; Bin instantly devoured his, and Dongmin left his sitting on the china plate, giving Jinwoo his full attention instead of eating. “Minhyuk said that Sanha's father _loved_ his job as a policeman. I just hate to think that all of this happened, Sanha went through all of _that_ chaos, and he still can't do a damn thing to help his father get his job back.”

Bin eyed Dongmin's cupcake for a second or two before speaking up. “Maybe there's something _we_ can do?”

“Like what, though? I mean, we can't really go against the police chief,” Dongmin pointed out. “He has higher authority. And he can clearly just point to Sanha's magical user status in order to justify Officer Yoon's firing.”

Jinwoo sat down on his stool behind the counter. He glanced behind him once, ensuring that Myungjun was still with his customer in the back (it was a handful of plants, and so Jinwoo knew it would buy him at least ten minutes), and then sighed loudly. “Sanha doesn't even have the bracelet on him anymore,” he said. “I don't see how they can prove it.”

Bin was quiet, staring up at Jinwoo, before shoving his hand into Dongmin's shoulder. “Babe, Jinwoo's onto something.”

“Hm?”

“The chief really _can't_ prove that Sanha is a magic user, not if the bracelet is off his wrist. I mean, supposedly, only the strongest witch can make those bracelets, right? And only the strongest witch would be able to take them off. And unless they can somehow prove that there was a super strong witch that Sanha ran into, one that took off the bracelet, then they can't prove that Sanha _is_ a magic user.” Bin smiled widely and then excitedly glanced at Jinwoo. “And Sanha didn't get his bracelet taken off by any of the witches who _made_ bracelets, did he?”

Jinwoo shook his head. “No. Someone in Seoul, not someone who made bracelets.”

Dongmin narrowed his eyes, seeming a little suspicious, but he didn't dwell on it. “But the chief put in _on_ him, and various police officers had seen it. I don't know how we can prove Sanha _isn't_ a magic user.”

“It's easy. Minnie, are you going to eat this?” Bin pointed at the cupcake, and without waiting for a response, he pulled the plate to sit in front of him. “I can accuse the chief of sticking classified objects on innocent people. We'll blame faulty magic, too, or maybe bring up the fact that it's a _witch's_ spell, and how the hell should we trust witches? No offense, Jinwoo, I think I can trust you just fine.”

Jinwoo snorted. He didn't get much of a chance to retort Bin's nonsensical rambling, however, because Bin continued, “So all we have to do is get me and you, Minnie, to accuse the chief of targeting poor children with witch's magic. I don't think the public will like the idea of him trifling around with children in that sense-”

“Sanha is nineteen,” Jinwoo said, “hardly a child.”

“But for all intents and purposes, we'll claim he's a child. I mean, have you _seen_ him?” Bin grinned widely. “Boy has the youthful face of a toddler. I'm just a little surprised Minhyuk is into that sort of thing, you know, he always seemed like he'd be into mature people, but I guess he likes that look-”

Dongmin grabbed his plate away from Bin with a scowl. “I'm not going to let you have this if you keep spewing crap like that.”

It didn't take very long for Bin to apologize, and it definitely didn't take him any time at all to stuff the cupcake into his mouth before Dongmin could snatch it away from him again. “All I'm saying,” he said, still chewing the sweet, “is that we accuse the chief of messing with magic around innocent children, point out the fact the bracelet came off because Sanha _isn't_ a magical being, and – I mean, to convince him, we can even claim that we investigated him, and his family, and there's no sign of magic usage anywhere.”

It was actually a good plan. It made sense, it was well-thought out, and it could end the stigma that had been hanging around Sanha and his family ever since the bracelet incident. It was a way to help, too, and Jinwoo wanted in.

“I can vouch for it all,” he said. “If you need a witness of sorts.”

“I don't know.” Bin grabbed his water and took a sip. “You're a witch. They might not listen.”

“None of them _know_ I'm a witch,” Jinwoo complained, “but they will if you keep going on about it.”

Dongmin sighed and brushed some hair away from his eyebrows. “If it works,” he said, “then they'll probably kick the chief out of his office. The mayor will appoint a new chief-”

“I've already finished my resume for that!”

“And then I'll need a new junior detective.” Dongmin raised his eyebrows at Jinwoo, ignoring Bin's interjection. “But I don't like working with people unless I already know them well enough. Especially because my ways are a _little_ unconventional, a _little_ different-”

“He reads minds,” was Bin's useless explanation.

Jinwoo didn't' care about Bin at the moment, though. He stared at Dongmin, wordlessly, at the urging in the man's gaze, before he finally whispered, “You want _me_ to become your junior detective?”

Dongmin shrugged his shoulders. “You'd have to work on the force for a bit,” he stated. “I think Bin did six months of work before he was promoted. As long as you're skilled, and as long as the chief and head detective agree, I don't see why you couldn't gain a promotion that way.”

“And if I'm the chief, I'll promote you instantly!” Bin announced.

The offer was tempting. In all actuality, the offer was _amazing_. Jinwoo wanted a job, wanted to do something with his life, and yet he was stuck trailing after Minhyuk to help decorate treats, and running the bakery when no one else could. He enjoyed being with Myungjun all day, he really did, but he had never had a _career_. He never had anything to strive for. He hated making potions and selling those, because that was what he did when he was desperate for cash. Using his magic as a means to earn money wasn't what he wanted his life to have become.

He longed to agree, to tell Dongmin that once Bin became the chief, he would apply, but he heard Myungjun talking cheerfully just in the back room, and he bit his lip. “I can't,” he mumbled. “Myungjun is a little nervous to be apart.”

“Understandable,” Dongmin responded, standing up from his seat. “But, still, maybe you can talk to him about it. I will, too, to get him to agree. I'd really enjoy having you as my partner once Binnie takes a higher position, though.” He gestured for his boyfriend to follow him, and before Myungjun could come out to greet them, he smiled to Jinwoo. “Text me, alright? I'll tell you what the requirements are.”

The two men left, then, just in time for Myungjun to have finished up with his guest. The bakery was empty and Myungjun was clinging onto Jinwoo, pouting and asking for kisses.

Jinwoo had no qualms about delivering more energy to his boyfriend in _that_ regard, no issues at all about planting smooches all across his face, but his mind kept wandering back to the job opportunity.

He tried to bring it up once, as he and Myungjun were closing up the shop. “Hey, Myungjun?”

“Hm?” Myungjun was instantly focused on him, even as he cleaned a few dishes.

Jinwoo smacked his lips together once, then turned back to his task of wiping down the tables. “I just wanted to say that I love you.”

He chickened out – but maybe it was worth it, just to hear Myungjun giggle and declare right back, “I love you, too!”

He'd bring it up one day. Perhaps tomorrow, during the start of their short weekend. Perhaps the next week, when Minhyuk would no doubt come back to work and Jinwoo would have more time to spend with Myungjun.

Or maybe as they left for the day, as they went back to their apartment complex, hand-in-hand. Maybe then Jinwoo would tell him everything he longed to do with his life, everything he longed to become.

At the very least, no matter what happened in the near future, at least he would always be _with_ Myungjun, smiling and kissing and enjoying life. At least, no matter what his job would be, he would always feel at home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so now what will happen? will jinwoo become a police officer? :O
> 
> come catch me [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only made u guys wait 12 days this time!

“So,” Dongmin started, setting a beer in front of Jinwoo's place at his table, “how in the _world_ did you manage to get out of Myungjun's parasitic grasp and come here?”

Jinwoo frowned as he snatched up the can and popped open the tab. “Parasitic is a little strong of a word choice,” he mumbled. “And I told him I needed to stay home from the bakery because I wasn't feeling well today.”

Dongmin raised his eyebrows. “Did he offer to stay home with you?”

“He might have.”

It was difficult to fake any sort of sickness to Myungjun. It was difficult to lie to Myungjun, really. He was perceptive, and he understood people, but he tossed all of his common sense out of the window for Jinwoo. He trusted Jinwoo, completely and wholly, and so when Jinwoo stated that he didn't feel very well, Myungjun believed him without a second thought, supplying his boyfriend with medicine and blankets, with movies to watch and games to play. He was so sweet, and Jinwoo couldn't believe that he had lied to Myungjun in such a manner.

Myungjun probably would have stayed home with Jinwoo, too, had Minhyuk not come to his rescue and convinced Myungjun that he should go to his clients and make money in order to buy medicine for Jinwoo when he needed it.

Jinwoo owed Minhyuk for the quick save.

“He's not going to go back home to visit you during his lunch break, is he?” Dongmin asked, gathering a stack of paperwork and filing through it with his fingers.

With a shake of his head, Jinwoo replied, “I sent Minhyuk a text and let him know what was going on and what I was doing. He's promised to keep Myungjun at the bakery until they close up this evening.” He leaned forward, staring at the paper Dongmin was placing in front of him. “I have a little bit until then. What's all this?”

“Paperwork to fill out for your application into police academy,” Dongmin responded. “You would have to be in the academy for two months, give or take, and then you can become an officer. _If_ Binnie is able to get the chief out of his position, and _if_ Binnie becomes the new chief of police, then you'd probably have to only work as an officer for a year, maybe less, before he'll promote you to the position of junior detective.”

It was a lot to take in. The entire prospect of a stable career had always seemed so foreign to Jinwoo. He was used to taking whatever he could get. He was used to selling his potions, staying low in fear of being found out. Even when he became a cashier at a grocery store, he was used to monotonous work that paid very little; work that high school students would take up for a few months. Becoming a police officer, and a detective, was far beyond what he had ever dreamed for himself.

Dongmin must have sensed his anxiety with everything, for he took one of the sheets of paper off the stack and set it down in front of Jinwoo. “I don't expect you to go over all of this on your own,” he said, smiling politely. “Which is why I'm here, to help you through it.”

“I'm sure I could do it if I really took the time,” Jinwoo mused, but he made no effort to lean forward and begin reading. “I just haven't ever done this before. My only other job was at a store, and I just filled out a quick application online and was offered the job because I could work any of the hours they requested.”

“I thought you only sold potions.”

Jinwoo shook his head, taking up the pen Dongmin had given him and clicking the top of it, over and over again. “I've sold potions as long as I've been able to. When I was homeless, it was usually my only source of income, unless I managed to do odd jobs around town that day.” He gnawed nervously on his lip and shrugged his shoulders. “This is brand new to me, you know.” When he glanced over at Dongmin, he noticed the pity shining in the man's gaze. “Dongmin?”

“I...didn't know you were homeless before,” Dongmin admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Myungjun never told me that.”

He hadn't thought about Dongmin's lack of knowledge concerning his situation. He had become so used to Myungjun and Minhyuk, both who knew what he had been through (Minhyuk to a lesser degree), and both who he could discuss it with on a daily basis. He hadn't been given the chance to make other friends, not even with Dongmin and Bin, and he had forgotten they wouldn't be aware of his past.

“What _did_ Myungjun tell you?” Jinwoo asked, curious.

“Just that, um, you had a difficult life beforehand, and that he never wants you to go through any of that again.”

Jinwoo's heart was filled with warmth, and he couldn't help but smile. Myungjun had always been so kind, so thoughtful, so loving and caring. Jinwoo had asked him before not to tell anyone; Myungjun had certainly seemed to comply with those requests, and he had done so in the sweetest manner. “God, I love him,” Jinwoo muttered dreamily, almost forgetting whose presence he was in. Dongmin cleared his throat, but Jinwoo shot him a smirk. “If we're going to be working together, I feel that you should know I probably won't shut up often about my boyfriend. I love everything about him, and I'll shout it out to the world if I feel like it. Or,” he corrected himself, gesturing at Dongmin, “to you, I guess, just so I don't embarrass myself _too_ much.”

With a chuckle, Dongmin replied, “I think we'll have too much going on at the station to gush about our boyfriends.”

“Oh, you can do it, too. Tell me all about Bin. Speaking of, where is he?” Jinwoo looked curious, glancing around the dining area. “I haven't seen him since I've gotten here, but his car's parked next to yours, isn't it?”

“He's asleep.”

Jinwoo blinked, staring back over at Dongmin, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It's, um, noon,” Jinwoo said. “He's asleep at noon?”

“We had a late night,” Dongmin responded. “There was a robbery and we were investigating and it took _far_ longer than we thought it would. Anytime we were ready to walk away, there was some other clue Bin picked up on.” He frowned and propped his chin up on his hands. “And then he complained that we both work too hard, even though _he's_ the one that kept us there longer.”

“If he's finding clues, it can't be helped,” Jinwoo said. “Did you guys solve the case, at least?”

“No. We're close. We told the chief we'd work later in the afternoon together and go over the files and paperwork.” He fiddled with his own pen, not quite meeting Jinwoo's gaze. “The chief doesn't know that we're living together, really, and so he thinks we're both going out of our way to figure this thing out. Instead, I'm just waiting until Bin wakes up and we'll pick some random suspect and go interview them.”

Being a detective sounded interesting. Jinwoo liked the concept of having important work and solving crimes. He also appreciated the idea of working with someone who was _also_ a magic user, someone who wouldn't judge him or turn him in, someone who he could actually tell his secrets too, confide in, and befriend.

Working with Myungjun had been a blessing in that regard. He was able to help Minhyuk bake and help Myungjun gather his strength back after dealing with clients. It was an amazing step in the right direction, but Jinwoo didn't feel satisfied. He felt as if the job had been handed to him simply because he was Myungjun's boyfriend. He felt a little out of place, dreaming of something better, something that could provide for Myungjun so he would no longer have to waste his energy and put his business at risk with necromancy. He longed to assist his new family in any way possible, and if it included going behind Myungjun's back and applying for a new career, then he would do it.

“Alright,” he mumbled, grabbing the sheet of paper Dongmin had pointed out and waving it slightly in his hands. “I need to get started with this.”

Dongmin laughed lightly, sitting up straighter. “Why the sudden rush?”

“You got me thinking about Myungjun, that's why. He'll be home in a few hours, and I still need to be sick for him, first off. And, second off, I want to make sure he doesn't _need_ to perform necromancy in order to make a comfortable living. I want to give him back everything he's given me.” Jinwoo glanced up from his paper and offered Dongmin a smile. “So I'm going to work as hard as I can in order to care for him properly.”

The process was a little longer than Jinwoo had assumed it would be. After the paperwork was filled and signed, Dongmin asked about a resume and cover letter.

Jinwoo just blinked in confusion, then shook his head. “Is...that necessary?” he questioned, sipping on the small container of milk Bin had grabbed him upon waking up.

And Bin, now out of bed and sitting on his other side, groaned loudly and splayed himself out over the table. “Jinwoo!” he whined. “The longer we sit here doing all of this, the less time I have to make out with Dongmin!”

Dongmin responded to that with a scoff, far more occupied with pulling up word documents on his laptop and filing through different resume templates. “Once our entire plan works out, we can make out in your chief of police office, Binnie, so you'd best help me with this.”

Jinwoo thought their dynamic was cute, and he smiled fondly into his drink as Bin quickly scurried out of his seat and hovered over Dongmin's shoulder, pointing out different fonts and colors to choose.

Building a resume from scratch was tough. The cover letter, Jinwoo decided, was even worse. He had to somehow make himself seem desirable to the department, and yet he had never _felt_ as if he was worth anything. He mentioned as much to Dongmin, as the younger man tried to encourage him to come up with good traits. “Witches don't really have any good traits,” he stated.

“Let's not focus on you being a _witch_ ,” Bin said. “Let's focus on _Jinwoo_. What good traits does Jinwoo have?”

“You can't separate magic from a person. Once they're born with it, it's here to stay.” Jinwoo recalled his time spent with his aunt and her family, being treated as some stranger, being tossed aside and given no affection. But he learned how to cook and clean there, so he murmured, “I can cook and clean rather well.”

Dongmin pursed his lips. “That's fine, but it doesn't really help for a _police_ job. We need things that relate back to this job. Have you participated in charity, or volunteer work?”

All Jinwoo could do was shake his head in humiliation. “I...no, I didn't. I never got, uh, the chance to.”

“Alright.” Dongmin typed a few words out onto the word document. “Cooking and cleaning, then. We'll add that onto your list of skills. What else have you done, other than help Myungjun out at the bakery? What are some good things the police might be looking for? Um, do you have time management skills? Or have you worked with computers?”

“No,” Jinwoo mumbled, staring down at his lap. Trying to think up good things for himself was a useless endeavor; all he could remember were things he did wrong in life.

Cooking and cleaning were the skills that dominated his childhood. He would do anything in an attempt to please his aunt and uncle, but he was deemed worthless by them. He believed that he was worthless, too; even more so when Doyun found him and their ill-fated relationship began. Witches were worthless, Doyun always pointed out, so therefore Jinwoo was worthless. It made sense. Jinwoo believed it. He became nothing more than some sort of slave for Doyun's enjoyment, partaking in whatever activity Doyun planned for him on specific days. He degraded himself for Doyun, because Doyun was, supposedly, the only _good thing_ in his life.

He took a deep breath, then looked up at Dongmin's expectant, waiting face. “I, um,” he started, “I can, uh, follow orders very well.”

“Follow orders?”

Jinwoo nodded, but both Dongmin and Bin still looked at him curiously. So, with a sigh, he explained, “Before I met Myungjun, I lived with...with someone, and...” Cold gripped at his heart as he remembered the past he always tried so desperately to expel from his mind. “H-He was also a magic user, but there's a certain hierarchy within the magic user community.” He held a hand up. “Top of the top are people like you, Dongmin. Mind readers. Healers. Harmless people.” He lowered his hand. “Then there's fire users, water users – Doyun was a fire user.”

“Doyun?”

Jinwoo froze, then cursed lightly. He hadn't meant to give out a name. He hadn't meant for anything to get personal. So he ignored Bin's inquiry and continued, lowering his hand even further. “Myungjun comes second to last. Necromancers. Hated, ostracized, but not worthless.” And then his hand hit the table. “And witches are the lowest creature on the planet.”

He was met with silence, with Dongmin's pitying gaze and Bin's incredulous look.

Bin was the first to finally talk. “Who the hell taught you this?” he asked. “Because whoever did really screwed it up.”

“It's not taught. Formally, I mean. Maybe they teach it in schools, I'm not sure, but that's just the way things are. So the man I was with was a fire user, and so he was above me. And...because of my status, it only made sense for me to listen to whatever he had to say.” Jinwoo clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I mean,” he mumbled, “I thought that's what I had to do, anyway.”

Dongmin leaned in a little bit, hand resting in the space between Jinwoo and himself. “That's not how things are,” he muttered.

“It _is_. As much as magic users like to pretend it isn't, that's how things are.”

“Really?” Bin snorted, and Jinwoo turned his gaze on him. “So you think Myungjun should give into whatever Dongmin orders for him to do? You think Myungjun is _below_ Dongmin, in any way?”

Jinwoo had never truly stopped to think of it that way, and he shook his head slowly. “N-No. But...but Myungjun is an exception to the typical rule of thumb. He doesn't fit in properly. He's just...he's above everyone else.”

“What about Sanha, then?” Bin egged him on. “Do you think Sanha is any less of a person because of his magic than Minhyuk is?”

Jinwoo did not, but if he rejected that notion, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up his entire belief, his entire structure of life. No one really fit into the mold that Jinwoo had settled for.

Only Jinwoo fit; he was the lowest of the low.

“Maybe it's just witches, then,” Jinwoo mumbled, playing with his fingers. “Maybe all other magic users are bunched together, and witches are lower than-”

“Myungjun regards you higher than anyone,” Dongmin stated kindly, a soft smile taking over his features. “And I trust his judgment.”

It was sweet, and Jinwoo found himself turning red from the attention, from the _care_ , that Bin and Dongmin were lavishing on him. In order to remain like he was in control of his emotions, however, he simply huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “We're getting sappy over something stupid,” he fussed. “Regardless of my views on this subject, I'm still good at listening and following orders and adjusting to changes.”

Once more, quiet settled over the room. Bin seemed as if he wanted to say more, but Dongmin shushed him before he could even speak, then began to type out all that Jinwoo had mentioned. “Good traits,” he said. “We'll also add that you're hardworking, which I know you are, and that you can learn quickly, if need be. I assume both of these would be true, as well.”

And so they continued. Neither Bin nor Dongmin brought up Jinwoo's past again, and Jinwoo offered no more information about what all he had been through and just how much he had suffered. He was determined to one day put his past completely behind him; he wanted to forget everything that had happened. His present life, his _future_ life, felt far more important to him, and he would mold it and shape it until it became everything he had ever wanted in life.

He had wanted love. He had wanted a family. He had wanted _normalcy_ that witches usually could never receive. Landing himself this sort of career would help his dreams come true. He would feel like a productive member of society, someone who would be able to stand on his own with a support system by his side.

As they finished up, he couldn't help but grin at the beautiful resume and cover letter Bin and Dongmin helped him put together.

“It's perfect,” he murmured.

Dongmin nodded. “For having done so little, it's still nice and full. We'll go ahead and send this, and scan the paperwork.” He stood from his seat, grabbing everything that Jinwoo had signed. “And _you_ should be getting home. Myungjun gets off in an hour, but I wouldn't put it past him to come home early, just so he can ensure you're doing well.”

Dongmin was right, and so Jinwoo also stood from his seat. He glanced at Bin, smiling sheepishly, and asked, “Bin, would you mind driving me home while Dongmin finishes emailing everything?”

The younger man sighed, as if asked to do a difficult chore, but he made no other complaints. He grabbed his jacket and gestured for Jinwoo to follow him. “I'll be back, babe!” he called to Dongmin, who giggled and blew him a kiss.

It was cute and domestic, and Jinwoo wasn't even jealous this time, because he had the exact same thing waiting for him at home.

Of course, he still had to keep up the secrecy of the entire situation. He wasn't quite sure when would be a good time to tell Myungjun that he had applied for the police academy. Sometimes, as they baked and cooked, he tried, but it would end with him stammering something about how gorgeous Myungjun was (and it was always true). Sometimes, as they leisurely shopped for much-needed supplies, he would gather the courage to tell Myungjun everything, but it would deflate when Myungjun turned to look at him, his eyes shining bright with adoration and affection. And, sometimes, late at night, as Myungjun lay underneath him, willing and breathless, Jinwoo would feel guilt hang too heavily over his heart and would _need_ to tell, but that didn't seem to be the right time.

It was unfortunate, then, that the secret came out when Jinwoo hadn't meant for it to, when he was unguarded and unprepared. It was awful timing, made worse by the weeks that had since passed, made worse by the love that Jinwoo was lavishing across Myungjun's body.

His phone had gone off, a little ding and vibration sounding on the bedside table. He ignored it at first, far too focused on the feel of Myungjun's skin beneath his traveling fingers, on Myungjun's moans and whines, on everything _but_ his phone.

Myungjun was the one who managed to gasp out, “We should check that.”

Jinwoo shook his head, trailing his kisses down Myungjun's neck, leaving little red marks all along his collarbone. Myungjun giggled underneath him, but still seemed adamant to look at the phone. “Jinjin,” he whispered, wiping sweat off his forehead. “It might be important.”

“Not more important than this,” Jinwoo breathed, hands squeezing cheekily at Myungjun's backside. His boyfriend gasped, then laughed again, lips pulled back in a large grin. Still, even though Jinwoo's words were most certainly true, Myungjun reached over and began to feel for the phone, though his movements were slow and clunky, restrained by both the dark of their room and Jinwoo's roaming hands. His breath caught once, and he stilled, as Jinwoo's kisses traveled even lower, but he managed to whisper, “It might be an important client, sweetheart.”

“They can wait,” Jinwoo murmured into Myungjun's stomach.

“Mm, not if we need the money.” Myungjun finally grabbed the phone and pressed the home button. When the screen lit brightly, he hissed, shielding his eyes, but managed to peek out in between his fingers to look. “Huh.”

Jinwoo sighed and propped himself up on his elbows, looking over Myungjun's naked body once before asking, “What is it?”

“It isn't _my_ phone that went off,” Myungjun mumbled. He set it back down and grabbed Jinwoo's. “I guess it must have been yours. Was it a text?”

Jinwoo shrugged. “Could be,” he said, his voice filled with frustration. “It might be Minhyuk telling us to shut up.”

“We're being quiet, though!” Myungjun exclaimed.

“ _I'm_ being quiet. You're always a little loud.” When he realized Myungjun was too interested in staring down at the message on his phone, Jinwoo shimmied back up the bed, sighing again and resting his head on Myungjun's bare shoulder, looking over at his phone. It took his eyes a bit to adjust to the light, and when he could finally read the words, he blinked in shock.

No wonder Myungjun was frozen. No wonder Myungjun was invested in this message.

_Congratulations,_ an email read on the notifications screen, _you have been accepted into Boryeong Police Academy!_

There was more information below it, details probably outlined better if the email were to be opened, but Myungjun made no move to open anything at all.

“Myungjun,” Jinwoo started, grabbing his phone and snatching it out of Myungjun's hands. “L-Look, I can, um-”

“It's got to be a...a wrong email,” Myungjun whispered. With the dim light from the cell phone, Jinwoo could see Myungjun looking at him, eyes wide and scared. “Right?”

It would be rather simple to agree, perhaps, and to continue their lewd, late night activities, but Jinwoo had lied to Myungjun for long enough. He couldn't do it any longer, and so as a response, he shook his head.

“What?” Myungjun sounded worried. “Jinwoo, did...did you honestly apply for a police academy?”

“I did,” Jinwoo murmured.

“Without even telling me?”

Jinwoo bit his lip and glanced down at the bedsheets. “I was going to,” he said. “I swear, I really was going to. But...but every single time I tried, I couldn't say anything. I got scared to mention it. I got nervous. You...you're the only one whose opinion I care for, Myungjun, and I was so certain you would disagree with my decision, and if you disagreed, I would back down from it. But I _want_ this. Dongmin mentioned it to me, he helped me with everything, and I think-”

“ _Dongmin_ knew?” Myungjun's voice was accusatory now. “Who else knew, Jinwoo?”

“He didn't-”

“ _Who else knew_ , Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo took a deep breath, and, once more, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Did Bin know?” Myungjun asked. Jinwoo didn't answer. “How about Minhyuk?” The quiet was answer enough for Myungjun, who was dangerously close to crying. “Sanha?”

“He...he only figured out because Minhyuk told him.”

With that, Myungjun stood from the bed, quickly finding his underwear and pants on the floor and sliding back into them. Jinwoo watched apprehensively. “Myungjunnie,” he said, “please, I'll explain everything-”

“If I want an explanation, I suppose I can just talk to any fucking person in the world to get it,” Myungjun snapped. He tossed his shirt on next and angrily wiped at his face. Jinwoo couldn't see him well in the dark, but he seemed to be wiping away tears. “Because apparently, everyone knew but _me_.”

“That's not-”

“How long were you planning to keep this from me?” Myungjun asked, his voice quivering. “Until you got the email? Or even longer than that? Were you going to work as a police officer for years before ever letting me know a damn thing?” He snatched his phone away and turned his back on Jinwoo. “Fuck you,” he said, bitter and betrayed.

And that was it. He left, slamming the bedroom door behind him. Jinwoo could hear him rifling through the living room, probably grabbing shoes or plants, and then he was out the front door, as well.

Jinwoo's dream was for _normalcy_ , but even if he was on the path to establishing a great career for himself, and even if he now had befriended Dongmin and Bin, he still felt unsatisfied. After all, Myungjun was his everything, his _home_ , and how could he be happy after bringing hostility to his home?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so updates may or may not be a little slow until the semester finally finishes up. then we'll see what happens - i've applied for a great job but i've learned there are over 70 applicants i'm up against. if i get the job, i'll be moving and so updates will be a bit slow until i'm settled. IF NOT THEN I WILL KEEP UPDATING bc i still have a pretty good job where im at rn. we'll see. it all depends.
> 
> REGARDLESS pls wait for the next update! and come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter/nightmjare.com)) to scream to me.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more mentions of past abusive relationship, but u guys know this already!

Myungjun hadn't come back through the entire night.

Jinwoo had fretted and worried. His cheeks were coated with tear stains and he was absolutely exhausted, having waited all night in the living room for Myungjun's return. Minhyuk stayed with him, for a little bit, offering useless advice in an effort to calm him down some.

“Just call his cell phone,” Minhyuk would suggest.

“I've done that,” Jinwoo had responded, his eyes not once losing sight of the front door. “And I've texted him. And I've texted Dongmin and Bin and Sanha, and he's not _anywhere_.”

Now, though, Minhyuk had fallen asleep, draped on Jinwoo's arm.

Jinwoo, however, could not close his eyes. He _would_ not close his eyes. His concern for his boyfriend was overwhelming, and as the hours ticked on and the sun rose in the sky, he could feel himself tearing up again, the prospect of his boyfriend _leaving_ him suddenly so clear and vibrant.

Why wouldn't Myungjun leave him, at this point? Jinwoo had lied to him, and in the midst of that lie, he had told everyone else the truth. He had knowingly and willingly left Myungjun in the dark, and he expected things to be fine once he brought it up.

Part of him, maybe, had been unaware of what having a boyfriend truly entailed. He had forgotten that communication was important in relationships. He had forgotten that Myungjun was trustworthy and sweet and helpful. Instead, he tossed aside the one person he _should_ have told before anyone else.

Jinwoo could hear his alarm blaring down the hallway, and Minhyuk moved, groaning at the noise and stretching slightly. He had drooled all over Jinwoo's elbow, but he seemed uncaring of that as he sat up. “Has Myungjun come home?” he asked with a yawn.

Jinwoo shook his head and bit down on his bottom lip. “Minhyuk, what if he _never_ comes home?”

“He'll always come home,” Minhyuk responded.

“But has he ever _left_ home like this?”

Minhyuk frowned and blinked the sleep away from his eyes. “Other than when he left his _parents'_ house, then, um, no. But he's never really gotten this upset before.”

Jinwoo ran his fingers through his hair and, tone desperate, asked, “Where the hell would he have gone off to, though? Because Dongmin and Bin say he's not with them, and he's not with Sanha – do you think he went back to visit his parents?”

With a scoff, Minhyuk stood from his position, shaking his head. “Nah. He doesn't have the means of transportation, unless he wants it to take nearly a day to get there, and he hasn't packed, and Myungjun isn't an idiot, Jinwoo. He's not going to just run away from all of his problems. He's done that before, and he regretted it. And, besides, he loves you. Why would he leave you when he loves you so much?”

But Jinwoo knew he had made a huge mistake by keeping things secret, and why would Myungjun want to stay with a liar? Why would he want to stay with someone who kept important information from him? He _should_ leave. He _should_ find someone better. And, yet, as Jinwoo thought about how much greater Myungjun could do, he couldn't help the slight bout of selfish desire that overtook him.

He didn't want Myungjun with anyone else. The thought of Myungjun _with_ another man, embracing them, _kissing them_ , made Jinwoo's chest cave in on his heart, trapping it and crushing it. It would be a just punishment for Myungjun to leave him, but Jinwoo didn't want to accept that punishment.

He had to find Myungjun. He had to properly make his apology and explain himself, before he could allow any sort of punishment to fall upon his shoulders. “Then where would he _be?_ ” he asked, standing beside Minhyuk. His own feet were shaky and he was still dressed in his pajamas. It was early in the morning, the time he should be getting ready to go work with Minhyuk at the bakery, but he couldn't even think about the bakery now, not when Myungjun was missing; especially not when his first encounter with the bakery involved Myungjun, when everything about that bakery reminded him of his boyfriend.

“Wait,” he whispered, an idea suddenly dawning upon him. “M-Minhyuk, the bakery – you think he might be over there? It's the only other place I _know_ he spends most of his time at, probably the only place he could get away with spending the night at. It's got to be the bakery, doesn't it?”

Minhyuk seemed interested in Jinwoo's realization, and he nodded his head slowly. “I...I think you're right. I mean, I really can't imagine him going anywhere else. Why don't we both get dressed and-”

But Jinwoo didn't wait for Minhyuk's plan. He quickly stuffed his feet into his shoes, not even bothering to grab a coat, and he hurried out the door, deaf to Minhyuk's calls for him to dress.

The sun had barely risen as he rushed down the sidewalk. In any other situation, Jinwoo would perhaps feel quite humiliated to be caught in such a state; his hair a mess, his eyes red-rimmed, his face raw from wiping away tears, and only wearing pajama shorts and a large t-shirt. However, his sole mission at the moment was to find Myungjun, to apologize for all that he had done wrong. He'd worry about his appearance later, when he could hold Myungjun again in his arms without the worry that was currently settled in his stomach.

He could see the bakery close by. He was running out of breath, but he didn't stop once, not until he was up against the glass door, knocking frantically. “Hello?!” he yelled. “Myungjun?!”

He had forgotten to grab any keys from Minhyuk, but it was no matter. After all, he _was_ a witch, and with his powers came a few simple spells.

Jinwoo glanced around him. The streets were – obviously – empty at this time of day. No one would be witness to his magic.

He whispered a few words, allowing energy to flow out of him, to spread out from his fingers and reach the door. He waited until a small _click_ was heard, and then tried the handle.

The door was open now, and he breathed a quick sigh of relief before scurrying inside the building.

He first noticed that the lights were off and the place was silent. Even as he called out for his boyfriend, he received no response. He checked behind the counters, inside the back room, and even inside each of the bathrooms.

Myungjun wasn't there.

He had no other thoughts as to where Myungjun would have gone off to. Jinwoo thought he knew most everything about Myungjun, and his _spots_ consisted of home and the bakery. If he wasn't in either of those places, and if he wasn't with any of their friends, then Jinwoo could think of no other spot where he could be.

Jinwoo left the shop, forlorn and lost. He hadn't gone without Myungjun since the moment they fell in love. If they were separated, then at least they always knew where the other one was. There had never been any reason to worry over safety and well-being, because they were always with each other.

And now it was all different.

He walked down the sidewalk, shuffling along silently as the world passed on by him. He envied all of the people he passed, those who probably lived normal, cheerful lives, unaware of the suffering anyone else had to go through. The rational part of his mind reminded him that _everyone_ suffered, in one way or another, but Jinwoo couldn't imagine anyone else feeling this way.

Perhaps the heavy layer of guilt and fear was something reserved only for magic users – only for witches.

He sighed heavily. There was nowhere else to go, nowhere else to check, and so it would make the most sense to just take the main roads back to his apartment. Myungjun would show up later, he assumed. There was no reason for Myungjun to stay away _forever_. Even if he came back to kick Jinwoo out, to move in with a new lover, at least he would come back safely.

But something tugged at Jinwoo's heart. He stopped, glancing down an alleyway. An overwhelming sense of nostalgia seeped into his body, calming his erratic heartbeat and frustrated tears.

It was somewhere down that sidewalk, that area, where Myungjun had saved his life and confessed his love. _That_ was where Jinwoo knew, without any doubt at all, he would want to spend the rest of his life with Myungjun. There, in between houses, both of them crying and clutching onto each other, was where they gave their confessions.

So Jinwoo walked down that way.

It would take longer to get to the house, but he didn't mind. He needed a few minutes to himself, anyway, to think over what he had done wrong and to figure out a way to make it all right again. He couldn't keep lying to Myungjun or withholding information because he was scared of judgment. He knew that, and yet he had done it anyway.

If Myungjun came back to him, he was determined to fix things.

He turned the corner and stopped suddenly, blinking in shock when he saw a body on the ground.

He recognized the clothing. He recognized the gray hoodie and black pants that Myungjun had worn just the day prior, the same clothes Jinwoo had taken off of him in a burst of passion, and the same clothes Myungjun had stuffed back on after learning of Jinwoo's lies.

It was Myungjun. And Myungjun was laying against the side of a building, curled up in on himself, back to the world.

Jinwoo could already feel the panic take him over now, as he remembered how _he_ was in a similar position some time ago. He remembered the blood that smeared the brick wall as he was stabbed, over and over again. Myungjun was leaned up against the same brick wall now, motionless, and Jinwoo's hands flew up to cover his mouth.

He stepped forward. Myungjun still didn't move. “M-Myungjun?” he whispered, steadily creeping closer.

He was scared of what would happen if Myungjun was dead. He was terrified of the prospect, and he had no idea how he could ever move on if that were to be the case.

Jinwoo moved next to him, lowering his hands in order to lightly shake his boyfriend. Fortunately for him, Myungjun wasn't dead. The older man jolted, disturbed from what seemed to be an uncomfortable sleep, and glanced up at Jinwoo with wide eyes. “Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo dropped to his knees, now beside Myungjun, and embraced him closely, wrapping his arms around him in a hug and burying his face into Myungjun's shoulder. “I-I-I thought you we-were _dead_ ,” he gasped out, voice quivering, “b-because you're _here_ , where I was, and-”

“I'm not dead.” Myungjun drew back from Jinwoo's arms and cleared his throat. “I...I was thinking. And sleeping. Both.”

“Why did you come outside to sleep?” Jinwoo asked. He tried not to look around the alleyway, tried not to remember the fear he had felt on that one evening. He needed to focus solely on Myungjun at the moment. “Why didn't you answer any of my texts?”

Myungjun wiped at his face; Jinwoo could see the tear streaks and the red nose, a sure sign of his crying. He felt bad that Myungjun had been out here by himself for so long, with no one by his side to offer comfort. Jinwoo, at least, had Minhyuk with him. Myungjun was alone.

“I don't want to talk to you right now,” Myungjun said. “Jinwoo, y-you...you're my boyfriend, and yet you just...decided I wasn't worth being privy to any of your plans. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

Jinwoo shook his head and swallowed thickly. “I didn't mean for it to be like that,” he murmured. “Please, Myungjun, believe me. I...I screwed up. I really did. But I was so scared to tell you, because I knew you wouldn't approve of it. You would try to get me to back out of my decision, and if you had requested that of me, then I...I would have done it.” He glanced up at Myungjun, at his exhausted stare and his disheveled state. “But I want to be normal. I can't be normal if my main source of income depends on my potions being sold.”

“You're helping me out at the bakery,” Myungjun pointed out. “You're earning money that way.”

“I'm _not_ though. Between Minhyuk and myself, we barely earn enough to split between us. You earn money with your magic, and I earn money with _my_ magic. I guess...that's all we could do, up until this point. But haven't you ever wanted something else, Myungjun? Something _more_ than what you do now?” When Myungjun didn't answer, Jinwoo continued. “I want normalcy. And...and I want to live with you, and maybe a family one day, in a house, and I want us to have jobs that all the other parents have, and I want us to provide for our children without magic being used.”

“Children?” Myungjun snorted and spread his legs out in front of him. “You sound like my father.”

Jinwoo didn't respond, however. He simply stared, watching all of Myungjun's facial movements, trying to best gauge his mood. “Maybe I wouldn't have said no,” Myungjun continued suddenly, glancing over at Jinwoo. “Or, if I did, even if it came down to _that_ , Dongmin would probably talk me into agreeing, anyway. It's just...I'm scared, Jinwoo. Because what if someone discovers who you are? If you're not near me at all times, then...”

He left his next words unspoken, but Jinwoo understood them just the same. Myungjun was terrified of Jinwoo's death. Myungjun was scared he wouldn't be around to stop it. Jinwoo could understand that fear.

“I won't die,” he promised. “I won't. I was careless the first time, and I should have expected it, but from now on, I _won't_ be careless any longer. I swear, Myungjun-”

“You were laying right there,” Myungjun whispered, and he stared out at the spot in front of him. “There was...there was blood everywhere. And you...you suffered, you kept breathing and trying to stay alive, and you couldn't. And all I could do at first was watch you suffer.” He turned back to Jinwoo, eyes shining brightly with tears. “Magic users can't get treatment at hospitals most of the time – if they knew you were a witch, they would take you away. So if you get hurt, I can only wait for death to take you – that's all I can do to make sure you're safe, is to let you _die_.” He sniffed and released a shuddering breath. “Being a policeman, it's...if you get hurt, who's going to fix you up? What if you get shot, or-or stabbed again? And then it'll be like last time. I'll have to sit a-around and _wait_ , Jinwoo, I'll have to watch you suffer, and do you know how much I love you?”

Jinwoo leaned in closer to Myungjun and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Honestly,” he murmured, “after what I did, I thought you might leave me.”

“Leave you?” Myungjun let out a harsh chuckle, shaking his head. “I could never leave you. I was _pissed_ , but why on earth would I leave you when I love you so much?”

“I...I kept it all secret from you,” Jinwoo stammered. “And I had told everyone else – I'm really sorry. I am. I should have told you straight out. But...” He gnawed at his bottom lip. “Do you really still love me?”

Myungjun stared over at him, his skin glowing with the morning sunlight that shone upon them. He frowned and smoothed out the worry lines on Jinwoo's forehead. “Jinwoo, we're going to fight sometimes. We're going to make mistakes. We'll have periods where we don't communicate correctly with each other, like last night. You messed up, but you explained yourself and you apologized, and I accept that apology. That's how relationships work.” He kissed Jinwoo's nose, as he had before, and as he would continue to do so in the future. “Disregard your past. That wasn't a relationship.”

Jinwoo's eyebrows rose, and he asked, “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“You had this look in your eyes. You get it sometimes, when you think about things that happened before you met me.” Myungjun reached over and grabbed onto Jinwoo's hand, kissing each knuckle separately. “Whatever they did to you, it's not right. It's not how things should be.”

Jinwoo knew who _they_ referred to. Doyun, and his aunt, and his uncle, and his cousins. Anyone who had made Jinwoo's life difficult in the past, really, and while Myungjun always refrained from talking about them, Jinwoo could tell, just from the anguish in his voice and the frustration in his gaze.

Sitting with Myungjun like this, at the spot where he had died, at the spot where he realized his life could become so much greater than it had been before, Jinwoo couldn't help but blurt out, “I made him angry before.”

“Him?” Myungjun asked, and he looked unsure. “Doyun?”

Jinwoo nodded his head and glanced down at the concrete. “Just once. He was calm most of the time. Not _good_ , but calm. And I made him angry.”

Myungjun's gaze was soft. He didn't question anything. He didn't ask for Jinwoo to expand on the story. He listened, as he always had, and refused to pass any sort of judgment. He left room for Jinwoo to back down and pretend nothing had happened.

But Jinwoo couldn't do that. He kept talking. “I was seventeen when we met, and so...I think I was eighteen when he got pissed off. He was a lot older, of course, and he used magic all the time. He reminded me witches were at the bottom of the ladder. But I...I liked to practice my spells. I never got the chance to, when I was younger, and I had never wanted to. Doyun told me not to. He said...he said I should hate myself for being a witch. So I didn't do spells, because that was something witches did, and I had to do everything different from a witch. I sold potions from time to time, but only out of necessity, maybe if Doyun didn't have enough money to pay for rent that month. But spells were for myself, and so when he was gone, I liked to practice them.

“I'm clumsy with spells. You know that,” he added, nudging Myungjun's shoulder, “and I've killed off all of your flowers at one point or another.” Myungjun didn't respond. “This spell was supposed to help with cooking. It would make foods taste better. I had cooked dinner, and I wanted to surprise him with something that tasted wonderful. So I preformed a spell, and...and I made all of the food in the apartment go bad. Everything. Even the chips in bags – those went stale.”

He could imagine doing such a thing at Myungjun's house. He knew how his boyfriend would react; disbelief, possible frustration, but never once putting the blame solely on Jinwoo's shoulders. Just like with his flowers, he fixed what Jinwoo ruined, and went about his day with a smile. He loved Jinwoo regardless of all mistakes.

“Doyun wasn't like you at all,” Jinwoo breathed. “I tried undoing the spell, but I made it all worse. The meat and vegetables started to rot. His beer – christ, even his _beer_ went flat. And I had to clean up my mess, and I was still tossing shit when he came home thirty minutes later. He saw what I had done, and he was calm at first, asking me what happened. I explained to him that I was doing spells. I was reluctant to tell him, but I...I don't know, I felt that I _needed_ to. Besides, how do you explain ruining all of the food? I told him I'd been doing spells for a while, and I apologized, and he made me clean up everything and then he hit me. He hadn't hit me ever before, not unless it was, um, during sex, but...he told me I was worthless, stuff I've heard before, and I apologized again. He asked if I loved him. I said yes. I didn't know what love was.

“And the next day, he brought home a girl. He kept her around for a week. He told her he loved her more than anyone. He showered her with praise and affection. She didn't even have to _earn_ it, she just got it. It tore me up so much, and after he sent her away, he reminded me that mistakes would result in that sort of punishment.”

Jinwoo didn't look over at Myungjun, too ashamed of how submissive he had been in his past. “Part of me worries, Myungjun, if I make a mistake in _our_ relationship, I won't be worth it anymore.”

Myungjun was quiet, be he ran a finger across Jinwoo's cheek and down his jaw, outlining and tracing all of the angles of Jinwoo's face. He leaned forward and kissed Jinwoo next, hovering over him slightly before whispering, “What you had with that monster wasn't a relationship.”

Jinwoo nodded. “I know that now.”

“A relationship involves two people who respect each other and who love each other, no matter what might happen.”

“I know,” Jinwoo repeated.

Myungjun hugged him tightly, allowing Jinwoo's head to rest on his shoulder once more. “Sometimes, I want to find this Doyun and beat the ever-loving shit out of him.”

Jinwoo chuckled and kissed Myungjun's clothed skin. “I'd have to stop you, babe. Revenge isn't really in your nature.”

“Which is _exactly_ why you should never worry about me doing what he did, taking revenge on you for something that could have easily just been discussed.” Myungjun was still frowning. “Though you _know_ I'd take revenge on him if possible. No one treats my Jinjin like that.”

He loved Myungjun, so, so much, and though he knew he should ignore the past and forgo the idea of petty revenge, he couldn't help the joy that settled in his heart knowing Myungjun was willing to protect him against anyone who tried to hurt him.

“No matter how someone treated me in the past, I still should have talked to you. I should have asked for your opinion on my decision.”

Myungjun giggled lightly and moved Jinwoo's bangs from his eyes. “My opinion is that I think it's stupid,” he said. “I think you should just work the bakery with me for the rest of our lives, safe and cozy in the daily routine that we've created. I think seeking a new job prospect is dangerous; working as a policeman will be even _more_ dangerous. I think I'll be terrified, knowing that at any possible moment you could be wounded.”

With a loud sigh, Jinwoo slumped into his boyfriend. “That's not fair,” he mumbled. “I told you, you'd make me feel bad about it all. I want to take it back now.”

“You can take it back if that's what you want to do. I want you to, as well. I honestly think you should, and we'll find a new job for you elsewhere. But I'm going to love you whatever your decision might be.” He kissed the top of Jinwoo's head. “I just think maybe I'll have to go along with you on all of your police ventures just to ensure no harm ever comes your way.”

“I'll have Dongmin and Bin to do that,” Jinwoo promised. “And I would never put myself in a dangerous situation. And I'd probably text you every hour to let you know I'm fine. I just...I won't lie to you ever again about what I'm doing.”

Another kiss, and Myungjun murmured, “It's your decision, babe, not mine. You make the judgment on what you're going to do. I just reserve the right to bitch and complain, and also maybe to not have sex with you tonight because I'm still a little pissed.”

And despite his anger, he kept a tight embrace on Jinwoo, nuzzling into him and smiling gently. His anger, it seemed, had been dissipated from his stronger emotion of love.

Jinwoo could hear birds chirping away brightly, could hear the rush of cars in the distance, and he rubbed Myungjun's back. “We need to get home soon,” he commented, “because Minhyuk needs help at the bakery and you need to catch up on some sleep.”

“So do you,” Myungjun pointed out. “Mm, let's make Sanha help him today. We'll just sleep in.”

“Well, we _still_ need to get back home.”

Myungjun blinked up at Jinwoo, then maneuvered himself until he was properly seated on Jinwoo's lap, curling up and humming lightly. “It's funny,” he said as Jinwoo planted kisses across his face. “Because I don't think I need to go home.” His laughter was contagious, cheerful and sweet, and with a tone of relief and content, he whispered, “I'm already home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now we get to see if jinwoo will go through with this plan of his or not. and if he does, how will myungjun react? find out next time in the most boring fic ever, home.
> 
> there's 6 more chapters left, including the epilogue. come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter/nightmjare.com)) to politely discuss these new developments.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally nothing happens in this fic oh my gosh

It was difficult to pack for a period of lengthy time, Jinwoo realized as he stared at the checklist Dongmin had put together for him. His bag was only half full, and he still had various possessions laying out on his bed, scattered and disorganized.

He bit down on his bottom lip, gnawing for a few seconds before giving a loud sigh and collapsing onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling before him.

He was used to traveling, to living in strange places and weird situations, but he had assumed, since falling in love with Myungjun, his life would now be stationary.

But then he realized becoming a police officer would involve a couple of months living in a dorm and being away from the man he wanted to settle down with for good.

Myungjun had been taking it far better than Jinwoo assumed he would. He had only cried a little bit, when he was first told of the arrangements, but since then, he had been a cheerful, if not cautious, presence in Jinwoo's life. It was much appreciated, especially when Jinwoo felt as if his entire chest was about to split in two, frightened with the aspects of being away from the one person he would consider his _home_.

Part of him felt like calling Dongmin and asking how to get out of the mess he put himself into, but he _couldn't_ do that. It was going to be difficult and scary and uncomfortable, but Jinwoo would much rather try it out, become a police officer and, later, a detective. He couldn't continue living off of Myungjun forever, after all, and even if he made potions to sell, his magic status would continue to be out in the open, always in danger of being found out.

He would like to blend in with the rest of society, live a normal life, and provide for Myungjun, pay him back for everything he had ever done.

If it involved leaving Myungjun for a short period of time, so be it. Myungjun could provide for himself for a while. He had Minhyuk with him, too, and Dongmin and Bin were close by to help out. He would be _fine_ , and Jinwoo would do well to stop worrying about him.

Oh, but he couldn't.

Myungjun was so dear to him, and even considering leaving was tearing him apart. He wanted to stay, to hold Myungjun forever and always. How was he to sleep at night without someone nearby who understood his fears? How was he to wake up each morning without the sun shining brightly down at him? How was he supposed to pass the time without soft cheeks and plump lips to plant kisses onto? Myungjun meant everything to him, and he was giving up his entire world for this chance.

He rolled over, now on his stomach, and groaned into Myungjun's pillow, grabbing it tightly and pushing it closer to his face, breathing in the scent of their shared shampoo and cookies and the earthy smell of potting soil.

He wanted to stay, more than anything, and he decided he would tell Myungjun.

He didn't have to wait too long for Myungjun to return from his shopping adventure, tugging grocery bags into their bedroom and calling out, “I bought some stuff for you to take with you on your trip, babe!”

Myungjun was met with a lethargic boyfriend and a half-packed bag.

“Jinwoo,” Myungjun said, setting his bags onto the floor and stepping forward. “How goes the great packing adventure?”

Jinwoo huffed and grabbed at his checklist. “I have a few of these marked off,” he said. “Toothbrush, pants, socks, underwear, and a comb.”

“Not like you need a comb.” Myungjun cooed and ran his fingers through Jinwoo's cropped hair. “Ooh, my boyfriend just has nice, soft fuzz now! It looks weird still, but it _feels_ good.” His hand movements were gentle and calming, almost therapeutic in a way, as he ruffled Jinwoo's regulated haircut.

But even Myungjun's words could do little to stifle Jinwoo's frustrations. “I hate the haircut.”

“I did, too, at first, but it's been growing on me, you know? You look like a sexy army man. You'll send me pictures of you in uniform, right? I really like a man in uniform.”

“I haven't had it black in _years_ ,” Jinwoo complained, reaching a hand up to swat Myungjun's away. “And I never knew how bad shaved hair would look with my face.”

“I think you're not looking into the mirror correctly, Jinjin, because all I see is the hottest man in existence staring back at me with smoldering eyes.”

“When _you_ look into a mirror, yeah, that's what you'd see.”

Myungjun frowned. “Hey,” he said, and moved aside a few of Jinwoo's possessions that still covered their bed. He sat down next to his boyfriend, grabbing his hand and playing with his knuckles. “You're the one who wanted this,” he reminded softly, his fingers running across Jinwoo's hand. “You told me, too, the day we figured out you'd have to actually leave home to attend academy, that you would much rather stay away for a few months and make something of yourself than stick with me for the rest of your life and never amount to anything.”

“I changed my mind!” Jinwoo exclaimed, leaning into Myungjun and groaning. “I don't _want_ to leave, now that I'm really thinking it through.”

“Oh? Were you not thinking it through before?” Myungjun kissed Jinwoo's temple and allowed his lips to linger for a few seconds, humming thoughtfully before mentioning, “I think you thought everything through just fine, Jinjin. You're just...you're just having some pre-moving jitters, aren't you?”

He was. Jinwoo _was_ having pre-moving jitters, and his excitement at finding a _real_ job, a _normal_ job was now offset with his desire to stay by Myungjun's side. He was no longer calm and collected, as he once was. Instead, he was a ball of nerves, a frantic mess, scared and anxious to leave his boyfriend behind for months on end.

And Myungjun sat there, smiling brightly through Jinwoo's panic.

“Why are you so _calm_ about it all?” Jinwoo asked suddenly, pulling away from Myungjun's warmth and comfort. “You should be freaking out as much as I am! You _had_ been freaking out as much as I had been, but...but now you're so calm! I'm moving _tomorrow_ , Myungjun. I have a haircut that makes me look like some damn military officer and I have to somehow pack away months worth of my possessions and I have to leave _you_.” He stood from his seat and gestured around at the messy bedroom. “I found my happiness, I found my _home_ , and I'm just leaving it all! Why the hell aren't you trying to talk me out of it like you were before? Why are you _accepting_ this, Junnie? Why can't you tell me I'm a moron? Why can't you tell me this job is too dangerous? Why can't you remind me that people might find out I'm a witch, an-and they might try to hurt me, and so I'd be much better by your side?” He stared at his boyfriend, anguished, and Myungjun didn't return his gaze. The older boy chose to look down at his lap instead, expression blank, and that somehow made Jinwoo all the more upset. “You're silent _now_ , right when I need you to kick my ass and tell me I was wrong! Myungjun, please-”

“You think I want you to leave?” Myungjun snapped, finally looking up and meeting Jinwoo's gaze. “ _I've_ been the one most upset about this. I was the one who broke down sobbing when Dongmin told us how long you'd be gone for. I kept talking to you and begging you to reconsider, but you stood your ground, regardless of what I said, and now you're...you're leaving me for three months!” Myungjun's chin quivered and he blinked rapidly, and Jinwoo recognized the beginning stages of tears forming. Myungjun was crying as he spoke, words coming out in stammers. “A-And I've decided to remain stro-strong for you, Jinwoo, I've decided to not bog you down with _my_ worries bu-but I'm _scared!_ I'm so scared of you leaving!”

His boyfriend curled in on himself, holding onto his stomach as sobs escaped him, and Jinwoo felt pain and guilt settle within him.

“No, baby,” he whispered, reaching forward and pulling Myungjun into a hug. “Don't cry, Junnie. I'm right here.”

“But y-you're leaving tomorrow morning!” Myungjun cried, wrapping his arms around Jinwoo. “You're leaving and you won't be back for three months!”

All the while, Jinwoo had been convincing himself that Myungjun would be just fine. He had reminded himself that Myungjun had friends, and now his family, to watch after him in the time Jinwoo was gone. But the more he held Myungjun, the more he thought it all through, Jinwoo realized their relationship was still fairly new. They had only been dating for a couple of months at this point, and leaving for such a long time would most likely put a blow to their new relationship. He was no expert on such things, but from the dramas he watched and the people he talked to, extended periods of time apart so early on could be detrimental to their growth.

He would leave, and things might change between them.

Jinwoo had promised, when he first made the decision to continue with the police academy, that he would call Myungjun every single day, even when they could no longer see each other, but would he really be able to? Wouldn't life get in the way? Wouldn't duties and responsibilities take the forefront? Wouldn't it all become too difficult to continue?

Leaving was a scary prospect, even more so when he could recognize the fact that Myungjun might drift away from him with each passing hour apart.

Jinwoo planted kisses across Myungjun's cheek, then ran his fingers through his boyfriend's hair. “Junnie,” he murmured, trying to get as much out of their short time left together as possible.

Myungjun sniffled as Jinwoo's lips brushed across his tears. “I'm so scared of something going wrong,” he whispered.

Jinwoo nodded his head. “I know.”

“And I know we'll text each other every single day, but I'm...I'm still scared.”

Jinwoo paused in his affections, then cleared his throat. “We won't...we won't drift apart, will we?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I've seen in television shows, and in movies, these couples...they drift apart. They lose sight of each other. They...they meet other people, and they-”

“Jinwoo.” Myungjun's voice was slightly hoarse, and he drew back to properly look at Jinwoo. “Are you planning on meeting someone else?”

Jinwoo shook his head quickly, responding in an instant, “Of course not! I don't want anyone but _you_ , Junnie! I'm just...in those shows, even the most loving relationships get ruined. Something always tears them apart, and I don't-”

Myungjun snorted and shook his head, stopping Jinwoo mid-sentence. “Is our relationship anything like the ones you see on television?” he questioned. “You're a witch and I'm a necromancer. I think we're past being represented in media. Which means we don't...we don't have to follow any sort of preconceived notions on how we should act and what we should do.” He allowed a hand to pass over Jinwoo's hair again, marveling at the fuzz, and murmured, “If you trust me, then we'll stay together.”

Jinwoo stared at his boyfriend, at his loving, sweet, beautiful boyfriend, and murmured, “Do you trust _me_?”

Myungjun nodded. “More than anything else on this planet,” he said, and he kissed Jinwoo. It was light at first, chaste, but Jinwoo pushed himself closer and Myungjun giggled up against his lips. Pulling back first, Myungjun said, “If you want any more of that, babe, we _have_ to pack. You need to be ready to leave really early tomorrow morning.”

“I'm sure I can be a couple minutes late,” Jinwoo breathed, but Myungjun didn't allow the light kissing to continue. He simply smirked and hopped off the bed, snatching away Jinwoo's checklist and waving it in his face.

“Pack,” he ordered, “and then I'm yours for the night.”

 

***************  

 

The academy was far different from how Jinwoo assumed it would be.

He figured everything would be about police work. He thought the classes would entail handcuffing techniques, how to drive a cruiser, how to file paperwork for an arrest, or all other sorts of things. But there was so much more that he had to do.

He studied law and politics. He had to take exams on police methods. On top of that, he underwent intense physical training, ensuring that his entire body was fit and kept up with. He had to watch his meals, diet constantly, and endure tests that he never thought would be possible for the human body to endure.

“Taser hurts like a bitch,” he told Myungjun one evening, draped over his bed and talking quietly on his phone. His roommate was in the bunk above him, snoring off the events of their past day.

“They tase you?” Myungjun asked, sounding shocked. “Are you kidding?”

“Just so we get a feel of what it's like,” Jinwoo responded.

“And what's it like?”

Jinwoo snorted. “Like a lightning strike, probably. Your whole body just tenses up and you _feel_ it everywhere, honestly.”

Myungjun gave a small hum. Jinwoo couldn't see him, but he could just picture Myungjun, probably laying on his own bed (on _their_ bed), hugging one of the pillows like he normally did when he was talking on the phone. He might be rolling around a little, too, or else messing with the leaves to one of the sunflowers he kept right near their bed.

Or maybe he was in the living room, talking loud enough to annoy Minhyuk (and possibly Sanha, if he was over for dinner). He liked to pause their movies or television dramas in order to talk, and Minhyuk would always groan dramatically the longer Myungjun's conversation stretched on.

If _Jinwoo_ were there, then Myungjun would be situated next to him on the couch, legs slung over Jinwoo's lap and body twisted uncomfortably for his head to rest of Jinwoo's shoulder. Jinwoo would wrap an arm around him, pressing kisses up against his cheeks during lulls in the conversation, making Myungjun giggle and then apologize to whoever it was he was on the phone with.

But Jinwoo was miles away, and Myungjun was no longer able to receive kisses.

It would have depressed Jinwoo immensely, if not for the fact Myungjun kept him occupied, anyway, with selfies and pictures of his day, with warm texts and cheerful voicemails. Jinwoo could get through _anything_ the academy had to offer with Myungjun's support.

“Sounds a _little_ fun,” Myungjun murmured. “You know, some people get off on that sort of pain.”

“On _tasers?_ ” Jinwoo couldn't help but giggle. “Myungjun, don't be ridiculous, people don't use _tasers_ in the bedroom.”

Myungjun agreed, “Okay, maybe not tasers, but how about handcuffs? You learned how to use handcuffs the other week, didn't you? So when you come home, make sure you bring those handcuffs with you, and cuff me to the bed.”

Jinwoo heard Sanha whining in the background; so it was one of the movie nights where Myungjun paused their movie to talk. Perfect.

“I'll get issued my own handcuffs when I join the force. I'm not using _these_. Everyone else touched them today.”

“Ooh, your own pair of handcuffs? Even better.”

Now he heard Minhyuk fussing and complaining, and Jinwoo laughed, just imagining Myungjun's smirk as the younger two boys were forced to listen to all of his dirty talking.

“I'm doing well with all the _police_ work, though,” Jinwoo said, rolling over on his back (and wincing from the pain his sore body was in). “But I suck at the academics. I have the lowest passing grade in our class.”

He was severely disappointed when the papers and exams were returned. He studied all night, between exercising, and tried his best to focus properly, but he couldn't memorize any of the material as well as the other students. He was lost with the big words, too, and sentence structure and grammar was too difficult for him to fully grasp.

“I never finished school,” he whispered, ashamed to admit such a thing, even to someone who already knew. “I left home at a young age, and...and it was just all a mess after that. I'm self-taught in practically _everything_ , but being self-taught doesn't really prepare someone for intense courses in a college-type of setting.”

“Have you called Dongmin?” Myungjun suggested. “He's super smart, and he might be able to help you out better than I can.”

Jinwoo always forgot that Myungjun, too, had never really finished school. He had gotten further than Jinwoo, only leaving when he was in high school, but his learning at school was usually disrupted, anyway, from what Myungjun had said, with the hatred and bigotry from all of his classmates as they judged him for his magic skills and not for his character or personality.

“I haven't yet,” Jinwoo muttered. “Been a little too embarrassed right now to call him.”

“Don't be. He won't think any less of you for asking for a bit of help.” Myungjun sighed, a little loudly, then said, “I miss you.”

Jinwoo smiled. “I miss you, too.”

Their conversations usually ended in such a manner, after some time of talking. Myungjun would always reflect on just how things were different without Jinwoo by his side. Jinwoo would always long to be there again, back in the tiny apartment with plant dirt scattered nearly everywhere, with Minhyuk's clothes on their living room floor and dirty dishes in the sink as they all begged the other to do chores. He missed waking up to warmth by his side, missed sleeping at night with content in his heart and Myungjun's arms wrapped around him. He missed the smell of freshly baked cookies earthy flowers and fruity shampoo.

He missed _home_.

“You have a little over a month, right?” Myungjun asked, trying to assure himself of Jinwoo's timely arrival.

“Yeah.”

“And then, once you come back, you'll start working at the station, won't you?”

“As long as they hire me.”

Myungjun giggled. “They will. The police chief was fired from his position today, you know.”

Jinwoo sat up, then hissed between his teeth from the quick and sudden pain. He tried to ignore it, however, in favor of listening into Myungjun's words. “He-He was?”

“Yep! Bin and Dongmin convinced a few of the police officers to file complaints against him. They used Sanha to show that the bracelet was put on someone who wasn't an accused magic user, and Bin used some slick lying and said that the bracelet was faulty and was stuck on him, thus unfairly labeling him. Or some shit like that. He's a good liar. Anyway, _his_ boss, the mayor or something, forced him to resign-”

“So he wasn't _fired_?”

“Let me tell the story, Jinwoo!” Myungjun huffed. “So he _resigned_ , if you will, and currently the police station is just answering to the mayor, but they're going to hire from within. Bin's already turned in his application, and I assume he'll get the position. I know he's young and has less experience than all the others do, but he killed a witch back in Seoul, which was national news, so he's going to be noticed and he'll probably be a priority.”

Everything was coming together, and Jinwoo felt himself smile again, pleased that things were working out for all of his friends.

“So once Bin is the chief, he'll definitely make sure you're hired. He also said he's going to re-hire Sanha's dad.”

Jinwoo heard Sanha give a little cheer of excitement, and he laughed, imagining how relieved the Yoon family would be about the decision. They had always been pleasant to him since he moved in with Myungjun and Minhyuk, and he wanted nothing but the best for Sanha and his loving family.

“Then I think you have to work as an officer for a little while before Dongmin will promote you to _junior_ detective. And then you can go off and be just like Sherlock Holmes.”

“Dongmin's the Sherlock Holmes,” Jinwoo argued. “I'll just be a sidekick.”

“Like Watson!”

“I told you, babe, I haven't read those books.”

He found Myungjun's sigh to be charming, even if his boyfriend sounded exasperated, and he gripped the phone tighter, imagining just how much he was missing out on. Take out and movies with Minhyuk and Sanha, cuddles with Myungjun, plants dying and being brought back to life, potions and spells gone wrong and _friendship_ abound.

He had gotten along just fine with the men here. He performed magic when he was alone, in the bathroom or when his roommate was gone, just to make sure his energy didn't bottle up too much, and so no one suspected anything. When he was with _them_ , he was just another one of the guys, complaining about the physical tests and written tests and anything in between.

But he _had_ friends. He had friends outside of police academy that he cared for so much more, that he would die to protect, and all he wanted was to complete the academy and get back home.

“Once you come home, Jinwoo,” Myungjun suddenly exclaimed, breaking into his thoughts, “we're going to read the books together. Bedtime stories, you know? Something like that. All about murder and mystery and mayhem.”

“For bed?” Jinwoo gave a small _tsk_. “I won't be able to sleep well with bad thoughts in my head, you know. I'd much rather just hold you and kiss you.”

“That's soft. Too soft. Because once you get back, I'm going to _jump_ you.”

Jinwoo heard Minhyuk and Sanha complaining again, and Myungjun argued back with them before groaning and returning to his phone call. “The children are going to kill me if I don't play the movie. You're going to sleep right now, aren't you? To get all the pain from the taser to go away?”

Jinwoo smiled. “Of course, dear.”

“I'll know if you don't sleep well. I'll be able to tell tomorrow morning when you call, alright? So _sleep_ , right now, or else I'll add onto your list of chores to do when you arrive back home.”

He was already on his fourth chore to complete the _day_ he made it back to the apartment, and he wasn't in the mood for any more. Myungjun really knew how to make him fall asleep. “Alright. No more chores.”

“Mm.” Myungjun was quiet for a second, then whispered, “I love you, Jinwoo, more than I've ever loved anyone before.”

“And I love you, Junnie.”

They hung up then, but not before Myungjun giggled at the nickname and not before Minhyuk complained once more.

Those calls really did make Jinwoo miss his boyfriend. They made him miss Minhyuk, too, and Sanha, and Bin and Dongmin, and even that ugly dog that called _Nancy_. He missed every single aspect of his life outside of the academy, and while he was forever grateful for such a chance, such an amazing opportunity, he couldn't help but feel excitement course through his veins as he looked over at the small calendar on his bedside table and crossed out another day.

He flipped the page once, looking at the dates littered about for the next month, finding where he had circled the day he graduated from the academy. That would be one of the greatest days of the year. Not because he would graduate, not because he would begin his time as an officer, not because he would finally have his _dream_ , but because he would be by Myungjun's side once more. He would be where he belonged, in the arms of his boyfriend and in sight of all his friends.

“Forty-nine more days,” he whispered, tapping his pen against the calender. “Forty-nine more days until I'm home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of me wants to apologize for the lack of plot, but part of me doesn't care. it'll all be worth it at the end. i have a cute ending planned.
> 
> there's 5 more chapters left, including the epilogue. come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter/nightmjare.com)) to ASK ME QUESTIONS (follow my twitter yall)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something happens in this chapter, go me, advancing the whole plot of the story

He was going home tomorrow.

Jinwoo had eagerly counted down every single day in his little mini calendar. He had crossed off dates as he approached the one date circled and starred and lined with little hearts.

The other police cadets had noticed his silly calendar, at one point or another, and had asked him about it. At first, Jinwoo had been too embarrassed to tell them he was excited to see his boyfriend, but the words spilled out over drinks one evening as the others talked about their girlfriends or wives left back home.

“I miss my boyfriend,” Jinwoo had declared, much to the surprise of the four other men. He cleared his throat and continued, “He's...he's perfect, and he means the world to me, and I miss him.”

He was met with silence for a second or two. And then, one of the men said, “That's fucking cute.”

They exchanged pictures of each others' significant others. Jinwoo felt accepted, even more so when they all joined in a video call to introduce themselves to Myungjun, and to promise they were taking good care of Jinwoo.

Myungjun was pleased with Jinwoo's abundance of friends.

“Don't fall in love with any of them,” Myungjun warned late one night, during their daily call. “Those guys are...are strong and muscular and tall, but _please_ don't fall in love with them.”

Jinwoo giggled. “I don't want a tall, strong man,” he responded, staring up at his ceiling as he lay on his back. “I like you just fine.”

“I have a soft tummy, Jinwoo.”

“I know, and I miss it more than anything.”

Myungjun sounded like he was smiling, voice light and cheerful, even for the late hour of the night. “Keep on liking my belly, then, because otherwise you might fall for that man who was leaning in _super_ close to you. What was his name again? Because he was a little attractive, and he seemed like someone who could kiss very well.”

“Babe, are you seriously talking about how hot another guy is right now?”

But Jinwoo wasn't too upset, not when Myungjun laughed and apologized. He assured Jinwoo that he would never ever stray away or find anyone else.

“You're enough for me,” Myungjun promised, and they ended their conversation with how it began: “I love you, Jinjin.”

“And I love you, Junnie.”

Their repeated love confessions always got Jinwoo through the next day. Even if he pushed himself, even if things were difficult, he could always remember he had someone special awaiting his arrival at home, someone who would jump into his arms and lather him with kisses and love him forever and always, regardless of who he was and what powers he had.

So when the final day of his training came, Jinwoo was ecstatic. He awoke cheerful, agreeing with his friends that he was very much prepared to go home. Even as he received his certificate for completing the training, even when he was given full marks on his final examinations, Jinwoo could only think about home.

That evening, he went out with his close friends in the academy, the four men who had accepted his relationship with Myungjun. They clinked beers together, laughing and talking and discussing their futures.

“I have two kids back at home,” one man said, a smile on his face as he tugged his wallet from his pocket and showed off the photographs he had stored away. Jinwoo and the other men cooed at them. “My son – this kid, right here – wants to grow up and be _me_. And so I decided to switch jobs. I was a store associate, but now I can be something to be proud of.”

Jinwoo nodded his head. “I work in a bakery with my boyfriend,” he commented, “but I don't want to live paycheck by paycheck, as we have been doing, and I don't want to have the job just because he owns the shop. I want to establish my own road in life. I want to earn money _for_ him. I want to be proud of who I can become.”

He wasn't normally so deep, but a few drinks put him in a philosophical mood, and he felt a weight lifted off his shoulder as he discussed such problems and issues with men he considered to be close friends from their shared experiences.

“Your boyfriend owns a bakery?” another friend exclaimed, looking impressed. “Imagine all the free cakes and brownies you can get out of that!”

“It gets tiring after a while,” Jinwoo admitted. “And it also means all he knows how to bake are cakes and brownies, so I have to make most of the dinners for us.” He sighed heavily into his beer, and after taking a sip, added on, “I don't know how he's survived these past few months, actually.”

He hoped Minhyuk was helping out. He hoped Myungjun was eating healthy. His boyfriend had _promised_ he was fine, but all Jinwoo could imagine were the frozen meals and cheap noodles that Myungjun would usually buy if no one in their pseudo-family felt like cooking.

Once he arrived home tomorrow, the first thing he would do was cook some sort of extravagant meal. He would make sure Myungjun had his daily dosages of greens and vegetables and meats.

He set his beer down on the table, listening into where the conversation between his friends had gone to (something about children throwing food across the room because they didn't like it), when he suddenly realized a man who had just entered the small establishment seemed rather familiar.

Jinwoo blinked once or twice, trying to figure out the details on the man's face. The bar was well-lit, so it didn't take too long for Jinwoo to recognize just who it was.

Doyun.

He had been with Doyun long enough that he could tell, even from a side-profile, that it was _him_. He had memorized Doyun's face, his body, and his stance. Doyun had been terrible to him, and every inch of him was forever plastered into Jinwoo's mind, a reminder of his past that he longed to get rid of completely.

He was frozen, staring over at Doyun as the man talked to the hostess. His skin crawled. His heart beat quickly. His breath felt short.

Why was Doyun _here?_ Did he move here? Was this all a coincidence? Or had he somehow found Jinwoo? Why would he track him down, though? Why would Doyun still care about him now? He had never seemed to really care before. Doyun had liked the power he held over Jinwoo. He liked having someone submissive nearby to torment. He could have probably found it anywhere, so there was no reason for him to follow Jinwoo to a bar.

“Hey,” one of Jinwoo's friends suddenly whispered, nudging him. Jinwoo gave a start, glancing over at the cadet beside him. “Are you okay?”

“I'm...I'm fine,” Jinwoo lied. When he looked back at Doyun, the man was heading further into the bar, coming closer and closer to Jinwoo's table.

Jinwoo felt panicked and trapped and scared. He stood from his seat frantically, looking around for an escape. When he noticed all of his friends staring at him in concern, he stammered, “I, uh, I need a bathroom, is all. Where is it?”

One of the men directed him to the back of the restaurant, and Jinwoo hurried off, praying to whatever deity would listen, praying to a god who supposedly hated him, to keep Doyun far away, to ensure Doyun didn't see him or notice him or anything of the sort.

Once he reached the bathroom, he locked himself inside of one of the stalls and gave a large sigh of relief. His heart still pounding, adrenaline rushing through his veins and his mind racing a mile a minute. He was reminded of Doyun's “love” for him, of the fake feelings he held. He remembered just how Doyun kept him down, kept him as nothing more than some sort of slave.

Everything felt too tight, too muggy, too dense, somehow. Jinwoo felt scared. His hands trembled and his knees locked up.

The only thing he thought to make it better was miles and miles away, and so with great difficulty, Jinwoo pulled out his phone and searched for Myungjun's number in his contacts list. He couldn't see Myungjun physically until tomorrow, but at least he could hear his voice. Myungjun could calm him down. Myungjun could remind him he was safe and cared for and loved.

He called the number and held his phone up to his ear, biting at the inside of his cheek and trying his best not to shed any tears.

But they came anyway the moment he heard Myungjun's voice. His voice was light, higher-pitched than Jinwoo's, smooth and soft like a spring day. “Jinjin!” he greeted cheerfully. “I've missed you! I thought you went out with your new friends? Did you leave already?”

Jinwoo sniffed, wiping at his cheeks with the sleeves of his shirt. The noise made Myungjun hesitate for a second before asking, “Jinwoo, are you alright? What's going on? Are you crying?”

“Myungjun,” Jinwoo managed to blurt out, taking a deep breath in order to control his tears. Before he could continue, however, the bathroom door suddenly opened, and Jinwoo heard footsteps. He quieted down again, feeling his pulse speed up. Myungjun kept talking, kept asking what was going on, and Jinwoo just _knew_ whoever else was in the restroom with him could hear Myungjun's voice.

So he hung up, saying not a single word, and waited for the man to leave. Jinwoo held his breath. He could hear the sink turn on. The man washed his hands, then headed out.

A few seconds passed before Jinwoo felt safe enough to open the stall door. The bathroom was empty once again, and with an exhale of breath, Jinwoo moved to the bathroom exit.

He would tell his friends he wasn't feeling well and leave in a hurry. He would go back to his dorm and call Myungjun to properly explain himself. And then, tomorrow, he would return home and never again have to set eyes on Doyun. He would forget all about him, as best he could. Doyun would become a distant nightmare, something Jinwoo only thought of once in a while.

Myungjun was his present and his future, and Myungjun was all Jinwoo would need.

All of his plans, though, were ruined the moment he opened the bathroom door.

Doyun was there, waiting for him, and with a curious smile, the man pushed Jinwoo back inside the bathroom and let the door close behind them.

“Jinwoo?” Doyun asked. “Park Jinwoo? Is that really you?”

Jinwoo said nothing. He just stared, eyes wide, at the man who had made his life a living hell for years.

He hadn't heard Doyun speak in such a long time, but the voice was still so familiar. It was the voice that would ring in his ears from time to time, reminding him that he was worthless, not good enough, a witch that didn't deserve love. He was the lowest scum in all the world, according to Doyun, for having been born a witch.

But they had been lies, Jinwoo reminded himself, because Myungjun cherished him and adored him. Myungjun had never once treated him wrongly, never once felt superior to him, never once hurt him. With Myungjun, Jinwoo had felt nothing but content.

And with Doyun, Jinwoo felt nothing but fear.

“It was difficult to tell, for a minute,” Doyun continued, staring Jinwoo up and down. “You've really grown well.” His voice held within it desire, and Jinwoo felt sick to his stomach. When Doyun moved forward again, Jinwoo was startled. His phone fell from his hands, clattering on the tile of the bathroom floor.

Doyun grinned, predatory and excited. “What's wrong, Jinwoo? Haven't you missed me?” He hummed lightly. “Poor Jinwoo. A useless, stupid witch left out in this world to fend for yourself. God, I'm surprised you've lasted this long. It must have been lonely, though, right? You've been by yourself, haven't you?” He tutted, clicking his tongue up against the roof of his mouth. “Poor Jinwoo. No one else has loved you, have they?”

In the past, Jinwoo would have accepted all of Doyun's words. He would have agreed, nodding his head pathetically and allowing Doyun to touch him and use him in any way possible. But now, he thought of his friends waiting for him in the bar. He thought of Minhyuk and Sanha back home, teasing him as if he was just a friend. He thought of Dongmin and Bin, assisting him in whatever way they possibly could.

And he thought of Myungjun, who loved him more than anything else and who told him such every single day.

He was worth _something_ , if so many people now felt fondness for him, and he didn't want to just blindly agree to what Doyun said.

“They have,” he retorted, much to Doyun's surprise. “I...I have had people who love me. I _have_ people who love me. I have...I have a great life right now, and I don't need you to ruin anything else for me.”

Doyun raised an eyebrow, then scoffed. “You're such a liar,” he said. “No one would ever love a witch.”

“It's true,” Jinwoo spat out. “I have friends right out in the bar. I have friends back-back at home. And I have someone who loves me regardless.”

Still, Doyun didn't seem to believe him. The man stepped closer, a smirk playing in his lips. “I know when you're lying, Jinwoo. I didn't keep you around for all those years and learn absolutely nothing about you.” He brought a hand out, and placed it upon Jinwoo's cheek. Jinwoo tried to flinch away, but Doyun was persistent, stroking at Jinwoo's skin and cooing at him as if he were some stupid, little child. “You're delusional. You're playing make-believe. Jinwoo, you're a filthy, disgusting witch. You're lower than trash, lower than dirt. I was the only one kind enough to keep you around and shower you with affection, wasn't I?”

Jinwoo felt trapped. He felt like he really _was_ the stupid, little child he had been when he had grown attached to Doyun. He felt as if there was nothing else he could do, nowhere else he could go, to escape Doyun's clutches.

He tried to protest. Weakly, he stammered out, “Le-Let me go, Doyun,” but his words did nothing for him. It was to no avail, for Doyun was intent on mapping out Jinwoo's face with his fingers, running them down his cheek and across his jawline, humming softly as his eyes scanned Jinwoo up and down.

Finally, he murmured, “You look amazing.”

It was unlike any of the compliments Doyun had given him before. Back when they were with each other, Jinwoo was small and skinny and shy. He was still shedding a lot of his baby fat; his body had been far softer than it was now. With all the training he had been put through, he had transformed himself slightly, and now he _knew_ he was strong, angular, handsome.

Myungjun told him enough times, anyway, and Jinwoo knew Myungjun was no liar.

The thought of Myungjun gave him enough willpower to shove Doyun's hand off of his face. The man before him looked surprised as Jinwoo ordered, “Don't fucking touch me again.”

Doyun blinked. “Are you really going to talk to me like that?” he asked. “You have no right to say those words to me with that tone of voice. You're garbage, Jinwoo. You're a damn witch, and you're below me in every sense of the word.” He stepped forward again, his eyes narrowing. “I could squash you like the pathetic bug you are. You can't even use your powers correctly. You're-”

Jinwoo felt panic overwhelm him the more Doyun talked. The man's voice was harsh and rough, and Jinwoo felt as if he was transported back in time, when Doyun would step towards him with similar words and mannerisms, when Doyun would force him to undress and then degrade his body in every way possible.

His panic caused him to quickly put his hands up. Doyun looked shocked for a split second, and then Jinwoo uttered his spell.

A small blast of wind shot from his hands and hit Doyun. The man flew backwards across the bathroom floor before slamming into the far wall. There was plenty of distance, now, between Doyun and Jinwoo, and Jinwoo felt like he could breathe a little easier.

Doyun's reaction, too, pleased him. He seemed scared, eyes wide and fingers slightly trembling as he gathered himself up again. He didn't say anything at first, either, wetting his lips with his tongue and taking one or two deep breaths.

“I _said_ don't fucking touch me,” Jinwoo whispered, keeping his hands out in front of him. “Go away, Doyun. Leave me alone. I _hate_ you.”

He hated Doyun with every fiber of his being. Doyun had ruined him and had no regrets for what he had done. Doyun _still_ longed to ruin him, for some reason or another, and Jinwoo hated him for it, for everything that had transpired between them in the past, for everything Doyun was doing to him now.

“You are a psychopath,” Doyun suddenly spat. “You truly believe someone loves you, and you're trying to hurt the only person who ever _did_ hold any sort of love for you. Do you really think so highly of yourself? You're lying.”

Jinwoo didn't understand why Doyun was so intent on proving Jinwoo wrong. It made no sense; they had parted ways years ago, and there really wasn't any reason why Doyun should be acting this way _still_.

But then, suddenly, Jinwoo thought of something. He gazed over at the man, at his graying hair and his obvious longing and desire and, oddly enough, slight regret shining in his eyes.

Doyun had no one who loved him back.

He must have known what Jinwoo showed him was never love. Jinwoo had been young, frightened, and attached to the only person who offered him care. It had never been _love_ between them, and Doyun was well aware of Jinwoo's own feelings and emotions.

But Doyun must have held on for lack of anything better in his life. With Jinwoo, he could have affection and sex and _power_.

No one else would ever demean themselves as Jinwoo had. Doyun, therefore, could not find love, because the only love he had to offer was fake.

Jinwoo could say nothing about it, though, for his cell phone began to vibrate at that moment. It rung against the tiled floor, echoing in the emptiness of the restroom.

Doyun glanced down at it in shock, and Jinwoo knew he could see the name light up on the screen: _love of my life!_

They stood there for a few seconds, frozen, before Doyun finally scoffed. “You're willing to take the lie this far, Jinwoo?” His voice was unsure.

“It isn't a lie,” Jinwoo defended.

“Then answer it. Put it on speaker. Let me see which miserable, filthy person you have on the other end.”

Jinwoo wanted to disagree. He wanted to pocket his phone and run out of the bathroom. He wouldn't subject Myungjun to Doyun's presence, even miles away. Doyun was horrible, and Myungjun's perfection should not be allowed to shine anywhere near such an awful human being.

But Doyun continued to stare at him, to egg him on, and Jinwoo wanted to prove, once and for all, to himself and to his past demon, that he was worthy of so much love.

So he picked the phone up and answered it. Myungjun's voice was loud over the speaker. “Jinwoo? Hey, are you alright? You hung up on me, babe.”

Doyun looked displeased, and Jinwoo tried to compose himself before responding, “I'm...I'm okay. Sorry. I was in the bathroom.”

“You were crying. Was someone a jerk to you? I can come over there, if you give me the address again, and I'll fix it all.”

Jinwoo smiled. He felt tears come to his eyes, relieved at hearing Myungjun's voice. It was much more preferable to Doyun's. “I'm okay,” he repeated. “I just...I needed to call and hear you talk. You-you know.”

Myungjun _knew_ of Jinwoo's past, of his regrets and fears, and Myungjun was well-equipped to handle all of Jinwoo's panicking and nightmares and sudden desire for validation. “I know,” he murmured over the phone. “I love you so much, Jinjin, and just think! You're coming home tomorrow! It's been super lonely without you here. Minhyuk is awful company, because he keeps on going over next door, so I've been fixing myself a lot of ramen.”

Jinwoo smiled lightly. “I told you not to do that,” he chastised, and he heard Myungjun trying to defend his position, but he didn't hear the exact words. Instead, his eyes focused on Doyun, who was grinning and mouthing words.

_Tell him you're a witch_ , Doyun had said, gesturing at the phone.

Surely, Doyun must truly believe that no one would love Jinwoo at all because of his magic. Doyun thought _he_ was Jinwoo's savior, that only _he_ could care for Jinwoo in a way that no others could.

Jinwoo didn't have anything more to prove to himself. Myungjun loved him despite his abilities, regardless of his abilities, _with_ his abilities, and there was nothing else to prove there.

But he wanted Doyun to eat his words from before, and so he broke into Myungjun's little tirade about ramen recipes to suddenly ask, “You don't care that I'm a witch, do you?”

Myungjun paused for a second, a little confused with the change in subject, but he answered, “No. I mean, you kill my flowers because you still _suck_ at being a witch, but you've been getting better. Where did that question come from, Jinjin? You know I love you.”

“And Dongmin and Bin? They don't care, right?”

“N-No-”

“Sanha and Minhyuk, too, right?”

“We all love you, Jinwoo. Hell, even my parents are okay with it! They're wishing you well, by the way. Mom says once you're home, she'll come visit us! They're buying you a few gifts, too, as a congratulation for finishing the academy! I've been cleaning the place, don't worry, but I might need some of your spells to get all of the soil out of the carpet.”

Jinwoo, satisfied enough with the answer, gave a small giggle and nodded his head. “Right. Of course, Junnie. Once I come back home, I'll help you out.”

He ended the conversation swiftly, telling Myungjun that his friends were probably wondering where he was, and Myungjun made kissing sounds over the phone, proclaiming that Jinwoo couldn't leave without a goodbye smooch.

Silence settled over the bathroom again as Jinwoo pocketed his phone and glanced up at Doyun.

The man looked far older than how Jinwoo remembered him to be, wrinkles in his face and shoulders sagging down. He seemed defeated and ruined, and Jinwoo couldn't help but feel proud of himself for causing the unbreakable Doyun to _break_ , to realize he had been wrong the entire time.

“People love me,” Jinwoo told him, his voice quiet, and Doyun looked over at him, the longing now tenfold. Jinwoo stepped forward, towards the exit of the bathroom, and he snapped, “You never did. I was a fool for ever thinking what you gave me was _love_. I have someone now, though, who loves me and treats me as a normal person, and I won't let you torment me any longer.”

Doyun said nothing, and Jinwoo hurried out of the bathroom, out from the oppressive and tense atmosphere, and he could breathe normally again.

He no longer wanted to stick around at the bar, though, not so close to Doyun, and he regretfully told his friends that he felt unwell, that he wanted to go back to the dorms and pack for his departure tomorrow.

They were sweet and wished him better health before he was sent along his way.

On his walk back to the dorms, Jinwoo was able to calm down a little more. He kept glancing over his shoulder, ensuring Doyun was not trailing along after him, but it wasn't until he was back in his room that he was able to sigh in relief and sink down into the bed.

Doyun was a thing of his past. He had proved himself, once and for all, that though he was a witch, he was still a _person_ , a person who deserved love and who found love.

Before he fell asleep, he couldn't help but send one last text to Myungjun.

_I love you so much. I can't wait to see you again_.

And as he dozed off, his phone vibrated once more, with a text message he would see when morning came, a message he already knew Myungjun would send:

_I love you, Jinjin! I can't wait until you come home!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> four more chapters left, including the epilogue! 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. i had fun writing it. next chapter, too, will contain more of jinwoo's growth as a person, and it'll all wrap up nicely, i believe, so pls stick with this until the end!
> 
> 4'33" is also on its way to being finished, and after those two are done, i believe all my efforts will be put into finishing boo?. but fear not! i have a secret fic in the works!
> 
> come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter/nightmjare.com)) to ASK ME QUESTIONS (follow my twitter yall)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant believe this is coming to a close ;A;

Jinwoo never thought he would have a job that he really enjoyed.

Having a fun career was for _normal_ people, he had always assumed, for people without magical powers and discrimination. It wasn't something for magic users, especially not for witches. They weren't given the chance for happiness.

But Myungjun changed his mind about that all. Myungjun liked working in a bakery, and he liked using his powers for good. Dongmin, too, worked hard as a detective and always seemed to appreciate his work – though, Jinwoo sometimes mused, it could be because he worked alongside Bin. Regardless, those two were magic users who were cheerful with their placement in life, with their ability to make money, and Jinwoo had always envied them.

Now it was _his_ turn, though, and he woke up every single morning with excitement filling his heart. He would wake before Myungjun, shower and dress and cook breakfast, and then, usually, Myungjun was drawn into the kitchen by the smells of food wafting into his bedroom.

Myungjun always had messy bed hair, and his clothes were always wrinkled from a good night's sleep. He would yawn, usually, an extraordinary amount, and eagerly hold out his hands as Jinwoo passed over his cup of coffee.

“Morning, babe,” Jinwoo would greet, smacking a kiss onto Myungjun's forehead.

Myungjun would swallow whatever coffee he had in his mouth and smile brightly. With his eyes drooping and his voice cracking, he would return the greeting: “Morning, Jinjin!”

Sweet, domestic bliss was an added bonus to Jinwoo's new life. He had seen such a thing in television shows and movies before. As a child, he always thought he could one day experience it; and then, as a young adult, his hopes and dreams were dashed by Doyon's treatment of flimsy love.

But he had surpassed Doyun's expectations of him. He had overcome those thoughts that played out in his mind, and he knew now that he was worthy of this sort of life, just as much as anyone else. Myungjun loved him, and Myungjun didn't love blindly. Myungjun trusted him, and Myungjun didn't trust blindly.

It had taken Myungjun coming into his life for Jinwoo to recognize that he was a good person. He could be a witch _and_ a good person, and he had Myungjun to thank for that realization.

He would usually smooth down Myungjun's hair, though he always gave a sigh when it would spring right back into its unruly shape. “You need to shower,” he would comment.

Myungjun would simply lean into him and giggle. “Breakfast first.”

Minhyuk would come in at some point or another for food, and it felt like the family that Jinwoo always longed for. The three of them – and sometimes four, if Sanha decided to join in – made up an odd little family, but Jinwoo loved it, cherished it, and wouldn't trade it for the world. They would argue and tease and laugh over fruit and eggs and toast and rice, and whatever else Jinwoo would make for them that morning.

It was a set schedule, in a way, one that Jinwoo always looked forward to, so it came as a surprise when he finished cooking breakfast and Myungjun still had not yet appeared.

He pursed his lips as the coffee machine finished brewing their sacred morning drink, and after pouring the usual two cups for himself and for Myungjun, he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Ten minutes passed. Minhyuk came into the room, scratching at his chest and smacking his lips together in appreciation when he saw the meal laid out for the family, but Jinwoo didn't yet give him a chance to eat in peace. “Minhyuk, is Myungjun still in bed?” he questioned, trying to seem nonchalant.

Minhyuk gave a small shrug. “I guess so, if he's not out here.”

Myungjun had still been sleeping when Jinwoo got up. Jinwoo had been as quiet as possible leaving the room. He hadn't touched Myungjun or said good morning, because he knew he could do all of that during breakfast. But now, suddenly, he worried, and he set the coffee cups down on the counter. “You go ahead and get started,” he ordered. “I'm going to go see why Myungjun's not up.”

Before he could do anything at all, however, the door to his bedroom suddenly opened, and Myungjun trudged on out, as per the norm, though he moved sluggishly down the hallway.

He smiled softly at Jinwoo upon seeing him, then plopped down in his seat with a loud sigh. “Morning,” he murmured, running his fingers through his messy hair. “Glad to see I didn't miss breakfast.”

His voice was croaky, but it always was in the morning, Jinwoo reminded himself, and so he shrugged his shoulders and passed over Myungjun's coffee. “I'll make sure you won't miss it,” he said. “I was about to come and wake you up.”

Myungjun didn't respond. He drank a small sip of the coffee and then sighed again, clearing his throat once before responding, “Mm, no need.”

He didn't joke as he normally would, didn't tease as he liked to during breakfast, and so Jinwoo stared over at him, slightly curious. “Junnie, are you alright?”

“Hm?” Myungjun glanced up. “Yeah, sure. Why?”

“I don't know. You just seem a little out of it.”

“Oh.” Myungjun laughed lightly and rubbed a hand on his cheek, humming before giving his answer of, “I don't think I slept well last night. Nightmares, maybe.”

Poor Myungjun. Jinwoo felt bad for him, and he longed to make things better. “You should have woken me up,” he said, softly, sitting down beside Myungjun. “You know I want to be there with you, Myungjun, through everything that you happens. Even if you can't sleep the entire night, I need to be there for you.” He reached a hand out, grasping onto Myungjun's hand. He couldn't help but notice the boy tense up underneath his touch. “Myungjun?”

Myungjun pulled his hand away and gave a quick laugh, waving off Jinwoo's concerns. “I'm sorry, sorry, but I'm fine, Jinwoo. Seriously. It was just that restless sleep, and I felt like I was dozing for most of it, so I didn't wake you. I'll just keep drinking this coffee and it will be perfectly fine.” He looked a little nervous as he pointed at the little clock on their stove. “It's almost time for you to go to work, anyway. You shouldn't keep Officer Yoon waiting!”

Myungjun was right, though his being right did nothing to shake off the concern that still settled within Jinwoo's gut. But he couldn't hang around any longer; Myungjun had told him what was wrong, and Jinwoo could do nothing to fix it.

Except one thing.

“Here, give me a kiss,” he ordered, puckering his lips and leaning toward his boyfriend. A kiss would help Myungjun get through the day just fine. A kiss could supply energy, some sort of magical transfer, in order to lessen the effects of Myungjun's exhaustion. Myungjun readily took those kisses from Jinwoo without a second thought, not even caring about the magical benefits of them – he liked physical contact, kissing and touching and hugging

Suddenly, though, he seemed averse to it, simply putting a hand on Jinwoo's chest and stopping him.

Jinwoo blinked, letting his lips relax. “Myungjun?”

“Your tie is messy,” Myungjun excused himself, hands messing with the knot on Jinwoo's neck.

Jinwoo supposed he was correct, and while it wasn't the best reason for avoiding a kiss, it was a _reason_ , nonetheless, and Jinwoo nodded his head. “Sorry.”

“Don't be,” Myungjun replied. He giggled and then gave the tie a small pat. “God, you look so sexy. The sexiest police officer ever. When you come home tonight, Jinjin, I hope that you punish me again. Remember last week?”

Myungjun was enticing, and silly, and Jinwoo would have definitely responded in such sultry terms, too, had Minhyuk not interrupted, “Oh my _god_ , at least wait until I'm out of the room to do this shit so early in the morning.”

“Sorry,” Jinwoo apologized, though he couldn't wipe the dorky smile off his face. The door behind him knocked, and he laughed. “And that's my cue, isn't it? Like you said, Junnie, I really shouldn't keep Officer Yoon waiting.” He stood from his seat, straightening out both his hat and his utility belt (and definitely noticing the way Myungjun's eyes lazily scanned over him). “Alright, don't work too hard, Junnie. I'll see you tonight. And we'll see about your punishment.”

He left to the sound of Myungjun cheering him on and Minhyuk groaning in embarrassment.

Officer Yoon greeted him cheerfully, patting his shoulder and directing him down the apartment stairwell. He asked how he slept, how Myungjun was, if he had any fun evening plans. Jinwoo eagerly supplied him with information, pleased that he had a coworker who cared, a man he could consider a _friend_.

His phone was filling up with contacts. The cadets from police academy kept up with him, and his current coworkers, too, seemed to like him just fine. He was proud that he was able to make friends without Myungjun's assistance, proud that he had friends who weren't just _mutual_ friends of Myungjun or Dongmin or Minhyuk. He had people he trusted, people he cherished, and his mind instantly strayed from Myungjun to focus instead on the people he worked alongside.

They greeted him just as warmly as Officer Yoon had when he entered the building, and Jinwoo still smiled. He popped his head into Bin's office, too, waving a fond _hello_ to him.

Bin grinned right back. “Jinwoo! Hey! Look, do you think this poster is acceptable for a chief of police?”

He pointed to the poster on his wall, and Jinwoo raised his eyebrows when he came face to face with a giant poster of a man with a deerstalker and pipe. He recognized it from the shows Myungjun had watched (the shows Myungjun had described as _research for learning about detectives_ ), and snapped his fingers. “Sherlock Holmes?” he asked.

Bin nodded his head in excitement. “Yeah! Isn't it awesome? Dongmin said I should take it down for professionalism's sake, but he also said I looked awful in _my_ detective uniform, so I don't know what to believe anymore. You've never seen me wear it, Jinwoo, but I looked damn sexy.”

“I don't doubt,” Jinwoo responded quickly. He wondered, though, if he'd rather face the wrath of Dongmin for agreeing with Bin, or the wrath of Bin for agreeing with Dongmin.

He decided to do neither.

“You know,” he muttered, “I told, um, I told Officer Yoon we'd, uh, we'd do that thing we were talking about. The...the big thing. You know. The learning one.”

Bin scoffed. “ _What_ learning thing?”

Jinwoo had no great response, so he merely bowed his head in respect and blurted out, “See you around, Chief!” before hurrying from Bin's office and rushing back to his own desk. Officer Yoon gave him a sympathetic glance; it wouldn't be the first time Bin had harassed Jinwoo into agreeing with him on office design choices.

“Did you forfeit another battle?” Officer Yoon asked.

Jinwoo slumped over for a second or two, then grabbed a file from his desk drawer. “I'm thankful for him, for supplying us both with our jobs, but _god_ if he isn't a nutcase sometimes,” he mumbled under his breath, ensuring Bin couldn't hear him.

(Bin was known to have good smelling – Jinwoo hoped he also didn't have good hearing.)

“Anyway, what's on our agenda for today?” He entered a few things into his computer before glancing over at Officer Yoon.

The older man smiled. “Paperwork until eleven, then we're out for traffic duty. If you finish the paperwork, we can both go home after traffic duty, so around six or so.”

Jinwoo liked the idea of returning home early. As great as his job was, he would much rather be in Myungjun's arms, a nice plate of food by their sides and some cheesy movie playing in the background as they embraced each other lovingly.

It was motivation enough for Jinwoo to nod quickly to Officer Yoon and give him a small salute. “I'll get it all done,” he promised. He reached into his pocket to turn his phone off, to cease all distractions, and then set it aside on the desk. “We _will_ go home by six today, I swear it.”

Paperwork was tedious, and sometimes it was boring, but no matter what, Jinwoo was just happy to have the opportunity and ability to work. Even paperwork, as terrible as it could be sometimes, provided him with satisfaction as he completed each page and filed them all away. He reminded himself that _he_ was in this position, that _he_ could do this work, that _he_ made money and contributed now to household funds.

While others trudged through the papers, Jinwoo sped through them all and finished ten minutes before he was set to head out with Officer Yoon.

The race against the clock had been oddly exhilarating, and Jinwoo congratulated himself greatly as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket and stood up, stretching his arms out in front of him and smiling over at Officer Yoon, who gave him a thumbs-up.

“I knew I chose correctly when I made you my partner,” the older man mentioned as they walked to his patrol car. “Bin had asked me the day before, you know. He told me he didn't want to assign me a partner without my own agreement. But I knew, even before I formally met you as an officer, that you'd do just fine. Sanha's only ever spoken highly about you.”

Jinwoo felt his chest puff out slightly. “Really?” he asked.

Officer Yoon laughed, unlocking his car and scooting inside. He waited for Jinwoo to join him before starting the car and pulling out of his parking space. “Honestly. Sanha told me you're extremely helpful and kind and you take responsibility with no complaints.”

Before he met Myungjun, Jinwoo realized that no one else would have complimented him in such a way. He was thankful for Sanha's words, but without _Myungjun_ , without Myungjun first telling him nice things, he never would have the chance to even meet Sanha.

He accepted Officer Yoon's compliments with a blush, though his mind fell instantly to Myungjun. “Sanha is wonderful,” he responded to his partner as he turned on his phone. “And he's the most helpful, I think. He's been baking so well recently with Minhyuk – I think Myungjun is happy to have someone on board who will follow Minhyuk's recipe instructions. I certainly never did.”

He let Officer Yoon laugh, and as his phone booted up, Jinwoo's own smile turned downwards.

He had several missed calls, and all of them were from Minhyuk. He had a few messages, too: _Hyung, where are you??_ and _its an emergency pls call,_ were the first two that Jinwoo noticed. He felt his heart hammer harshly in his chest, and, without taking his eyes off his phone, he reached out blindly and tapped Officer Yoon's arm. “Sp-Speaking of Minhyuk, um, I really need to give him a call. You don't mind, do you?”

He expected Officer Yoon to allow him to do so, and with shaking hands, he found Minhyuk's name in his contacts. “Is everything alright?” Officer Yoon asked; after all, his son worked alongside Minhyuk, and any sort of emergency might involve him, as well.

Jinwoo had no answers, and he shrugged his shoulders. “I-I hope so,” he murmured, though he doubted it, what with Minhyuk's frantic text messages.

The younger boy answered the phone on the third ring, sounding exhausted and a little frightened. “Jinwoo?”

“Minhyuk, hi. I, uh, I got your call. Your _calls_. Just now. I'm sorry, my phone was off – what happened? Is everything alright? Is...is Myungjun okay?”

Minhyuk shuffled slightly, as if moving the phone to his other ear, and he answered, “Jinwoo, we're at the hospital right now.”

Jinwoo felt his blood run cold. “What?”

“I-I know that you said you guys don't go to hospitals, but I really...I had no choice. You wouldn't answer any of my damn calls, and I panicked, and he wasn't moving so I _had_ to make a decision – I just wanted him to be okay.”

“Minhyuk, slow down.” Jinwoo sat straighter in his seat, wide eyes staring ahead. Things sounded bad; things sounded _awful_. “Tell me what happened, okay? Take a deep breath and tell me. I need to know if Myungjun is okay.”

He heard Minhyuk's deep breath over the phone, and then the boy started, “Myungjun had a lot more clients today than he normally has, but he kept telling me he was fine, so I allowed it. He didn't leave the backroom much. One of his clients informed me that Myungjun had given up after a few minutes of trying to bring her cat back to life, and he told her to come back tomorrow. It was just unlike him, but he said he was fine, even if he looked like he was about to collapse. I told him he should go home, but he insisted that he could do one more, and I'm...I'm not in much position to argue with him. So he had another client come in. This client left happy enough, and I thought things must be fine, but I still didn't want Myungjun performing anything else. I went in to demand that he left, and...and I found him on the floor.”

Minhyuk sounded helpless and unsure; Jinwoo _felt_ helpless and unsure. He gripped at the phone held to his ears and tried not to panic, though his heart and mind felt nothing but turmoil.

“He wouldn't wake up,” Minhyuk continued. “Usually, if he faints, he wakes up, but he wouldn't wake up. He was still breathing fine, but no matter what I did, it's like he just slept through it all. I finally told Sanha to close the shop down, and I called you multiple times, and...and you didn't answer. I didn't know what to do, so I had to call the ambulance. I _know_ what you two said about hospitals, but I was so scared he was dying, or-or something else might be seriously wrong with him. I didn't know, Jinwoo, I really didn't-”

“You did fine,” Jinwoo interrupted Minhyuk's tirade, trying his best to calm the both of them down. Officer Yoon watched on curiously though Jinwoo wasn't quite sure what to tell him, exactly, and so he ignored the older man for the time being. “Hospitals are-are necessary, sometimes, and he needed one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, so...so that's where Sanha and I are right now. He's being treated, and they're trying to figure out the causes. They've asked me everything I know, um, about him, but...but I didn't tell.” Minhyuk gave a slight, bitter laugh. “It would have done nothing but ruined his life, right? I was okay to keep it in, wasn't I?”

“Yeah, that's-that's good,” Jinwoo said. He nodded his head, as if to convince himself more than anyone. “So...so the doctors haven't told you what's going on?”

“No. They hooked him to IVs on the ambulance ride to the hospital, though. They...they did say he had a pretty high fever, so I don't know if that's the cause, or if something else might have happened.”

Jinwoo hated his imagination as it ran wild, images of poor Myungjun hooked to machines, unresponsive, pale and limp in a hospital bed. He _hated_ the thought of his precious, sweet boyfriend undergoing such a horrible experience, and he had to quell his own tears as they rose up in his eyes. “I'm on my way, Minhyuk,” he assured, glancing over at Officer Yoon's anxious expression. “Give...give me ten minutes, maybe, and...and I'm on my way. Can you text me or call me with any updates, please? Don't just stay silent about it.”

“I won't,” Minhyuk promised, and they hung up quickly so Jinwoo could relay the information back to Officer Yoon.

He took a deep breath, and his voice quivered as he explained, “My...my boyfriend is in the hospital.”

Officer Yoon gasped. “Myungjun? What's wrong with him?”

“High fever. I don't know. He didn't say anything this morning.”

But even as the words left his mouth, he realized they were completely untrue. Hadn't Myungjun said plenty for Jinwoo to become a little worried? He had been late for breakfast, something that was uncommon with Myungjun. He had looked terrible, though he brushed it off as exhaustion. He had rejected all of Jinwoo's physical forms of affection, too, sliding his hand away, stopping Jinwoo's kiss from ever reaching his mouth. He wasn't nearly as perky, his voice wasn't nearly as bright, and his eyes had been lazy, even as he tried saying lewd things.

He had been sick the entire time, and Jinwoo was so caught up in work that he didn't take the time to dwell on Myungjun any further, and _he_ had subjected his boyfriend to his fate now of hospitals and machines and doctors.

So it wasn't necessarily that Myungjun hadn't said anything – it was just that Jinwoo hadn't paid him any attention.

He felt terrible, and he asked, “Is...is there anyway we can get to the hospital? I know we're working, I know we should be doing traffic duty, but I-”

“I'm sure Bin will understand,” Officer Yoon assured. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. “He likes you and Myungjun, after all. I don't think he'd get angry if we went to go see your boyfriend. I mean, he's in the hospital. You shouldn't ignore that.”

Jinwoo had ignored Myungjun enough, it seemed, and he was quite ready to change it. He nodded, but sat in silence as Officer Yoon made a u-turn and began driving the other way, intent on finding the hospital.

The drive there was quiet. Jinwoo could see Officer Yoon glance at him occasionally, probably filled to the brim with questions, or perhaps with more assurances that things would be fine, but Jinwoo kept his gaze set pointedly away. He was too worried to talk properly, to answer things properly. He only gripped at his phone, staring at the screen and awaiting any sort of change to Myungjun's condition.

Nothing came, which he supposed was good – at the very least, there was no bad news, and so he could rest a little easier with that knowledge.

Officer Yoon stopped at the hospital entrance, and he gestured for Jinwoo to get out of the car. “I'll go find a parking space,” he said. “And I'll meet you up there.”

Jinwoo was grateful that he had such amazing friends and coworkers, and he offered Officer Yoon a small smile and a nod before hurrying out of the car and rushing into the hospital. He was able to get a room number from the lady at the front desk, and she pointed in the direction of the elevators.

Jinwoo's heart felt as if it was about to pound right out of his chest. He was so scared, so frightened, of something having really gone wrong, and as he got out of the elevator, he found Minhyuk waiting by the doors to a room.

The boy had been crying recently; Jinwoo could definitely tell. He had tear streaks dried onto his cheeks, and his eyes were red and puffy. He looked up and then gently nudged Sanha, who stood beside him.

Sanha seemed far more put together, and he smiled at Jinwoo. “Hi,” Sanha greeted.

Jinwoo ignored him, but he was certain Sanha understood. “How's Myungjun? Have they figured out what's wrong?”

Minhyuk sighed and nodded his head. “They said it was his fever. He pushed himself too hard without taking time to rest or eat or even take any medication. They asked what he had been doing, I just said normal work, but...” Minhyuk hesitated for a second, then murmured, “I think he used up too much energy while being sick. I think that messed with him. I don't know if it's lasting, or-or what will happen, but he _really_ pushed himself too far.”

Jinwoo bit his lip and thought of the potions he had been making for Myungjun that would replenish some of his energy levels. He hadn't made any recently. Myungjun had assured him he had plenty. Was that a lie?

But why would Myungjun lie to him? Why would Myungjun try to keep all of this hidden from his family?

“He's sleeping now,” Sanha said when the lull in conversation became too long. “He was awake for a minute or two, the doctor said, while they were doing some examinations on him, and he slurred all of his answers before falling back to sleep. But they said his condition is stable, he has fluids and medicine in him now, and he should wake up at any moment.” He smiled again, then waved a hand toward the door. “You should go in there. Minhyuk says he'd probably feel less panicked about being in a hospital if you're there with him.”

Jinwoo needn't be told twice. He took a deep breath and nodded his head before entering the room and closing the door behind him.

Even in a hospital, Jinwoo realized, pale-faced and unresponsive and hooked up to different machines, Myungjun still meant the world to him. Even like this, Jinwoo realized, stepping close to Myungjun's bed, Myungjun was still his home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lil anticlimactic, no?
> 
> three more chapters left now, including the epilogue! i hope u guys are enjoying this so far!
> 
> come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter.com/nightmjare)) to ASK ME QUESTIONS (follow my twitter yall)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long. life has gotten a lil busy and hectic!

The room was silent, save for the light beeps coming from the machines hooked up to Myungjun's body. Jinwoo sat right by his bed, holding onto his hand and rubbing a thumb over the skin. He had delivered smaller bursts of magical energy to Myungjun when he felt as if no one would notice, but there wasn't much he could do except wait.

Minhyuk and Sanha waited with him, shielding his powers from doctors or else just offering up some conversation. Sanha, after a while, looked bored, and he paced the room while texting on his phone.

Minhyuk remained next to Jinwoo, keeping with his vigil. Jinwoo noticed the guilt displayed fully on the young boy's face, and while he had initially ignored such emotions, he couldn't allow them to go unchecked any longer. “Minhyuk,” he sighed, “don't blame yourself.”

He shifted in his seat, and Minhyuk glanced over at him. “It _was_ my fault, though,” Minhyuk responded. He wrung his hands in front of him, tugging on his own fingers in frustration. “I knew he wasn't doing well. I saw him wobble and nearly faint, and I just...I left it alone.”

“He's a grown man. He can take care of himself.”

But Minhyuk shook his head. “He's been pushing himself, Jinwoo. And I knew it all along. I just...I thought maybe he'd be fine, or he knew what he was doing. I was so _stupid_. I didn't even bother to really check or-or ask-”

“Again, he's a grown man. He has to live with the mistakes he makes.” Jinwoo looked back down at his boyfriend, at his pale face and dark circles under his eyes. “I...I've also been ignoring all signs of distress. I thought, too, that he didn't seem like himself this morning. He rejected my kisses and hugs. He slept in, and he never sleeps in. He just seemed _off_ , and I brushed it all aside because I was more focused on myself.” He reached out to push aside some of Myungjun's bangs. “If anyone's to blame, it's me.”

“You've been busy,” Minhyuk said, coming to Jinwoo's defense. “It's difficult to notice these things. _I_ noticed them, and I still did nothing. This is all my fault.”

Before Jinwoo could try and dispute Minhyuk's words, he heard Sanha groan. “God, both of you are whiny!” the young boy fussed. He stuffed his phone away into his pocket. “ _Myungjun_ was the idiot who kept going even though he knew he was sick. You two are acting like he's a baby and you have to constantly care for him and look after him. But he's not that big of a child. He came here by himself and opened a bakery within a few weeks, despite not knowing how to bake. He took care of himself just fine without either of you two. You don't _need_ to care for him when he can do it himself.” Sanha gave a small huff and then plopped down in one of the available chairs on the other side of Myungjun's bed. “Like Jinwoo said, he's a grown man, and we're not in charge of him.”

Jinwoo knew that Sanha was correct. Myungjun wasn't a child. He had always taken care of himself, and it wasn't Jinwoo's place to constantly look after him. A relationship was about sharing struggles and pain; for some reason, Myungjun had kept it all to himself this once.

“Sanha's right, Minhyuk,” Jinwoo said, reaching over to pat his back. “Myungjun could have easily told any of us that he didn't feel well. Myungjun could have stayed home, or closed down the bakery, or at _least_ not strained himself with his work. He's smart and capable.”

Minhyuk's worry didn't seem to dissipate. “But then that means he felt there was a reason to keep silent and to keep busy. Something's wrong with him, and he didn't want to tell us. When have you ever known Myungjun to brush off any sort of pain or discomfort? He's the biggest drama queen I know; he _always_ tells us if he's hurt.”

Minhyuk posed a good point. Myungjun was never silent about his ailments. He was vocal, to the point of being a slight embarrassment at the dinner table. But he suddenly kept all of this to himself, chose not to tell a single soul. It was a little odd, and Jinwoo bit his lip in worry.

He didn't get a chance to respond, however. Sanha stood up and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I'm hungry,” he stated, “and I left my lunch at work.”

“There's a cafeteria,” Minhyuk supplied.

Sanha pursed his lips in a slight pout. “And you think I should go alone?” he questioned, voice suddenly quiet and squeaky. “Come with me, Hyuk.”

“I'd rather be here in case Myungjun wakes up,” Minhyuk said, and he looked over his sleeping friend, eyes clouded with concern and fear.

“He has been asleep for _hours_ , and we've been sitting here this entire time!” Sanha whined. “I'm bored and I want to walk with someone.”

Jinwoo took a deep breath and glanced at Minhyuk, who was steadfast in place, refusing to move.

“I'll go,” Jinwoo offered, setting Myungjun's hands back on his bed. He bent down and kissed his boyfriend's forehead, thankful that the fever was continuing to settle. “He _hasn't_ woken up for a while, and five minutes probably won't be any different than it is right now.”

“Still,” Minhyuk mumbled, and he grabbed Myungjun's hands in Jinwoo's place. “Just in case he _does_ wake up.”

At least Myungjun would have someone to care for him, on the off-chance he opened his eyes in five minutes. Jinwoo didn't wish for Myungjun to wake up alone, in an unfamiliar location, with no knowledge as to what had happened. “Text me if anything changes, then,” Jinwoo said. He ran his fingers along Myungjun's cheeks, lightly touching them, before finally pulling away and turning to Sanha. “Come along.”

Sanha appeared much more cheerful as they walked down the hospital hallway. He hummed lightly, then began to ramble about what all he wanted to eat, before finally discussing Myungjun's condition. “I noticed it, too,” he blurted out. “How sick Myungjun was. But he said he was fine, and he had everything under control. It's...it's hard to tell someone off when they're older and more experienced than you.”

Jinwoo could understand, and as they stopped by a snack machine, he nodded along.

“He's been keeping a lot from us all lately, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Sanha chose a candy bar, then thought twice and chose one extra piece of chocolate. As he stuffed his money into the machine, he continued, “Last week, he cut himself. Minhyuk was picking up more flour, and Myungjun was helping me with some of the treats, and he accidentally cut himself while slicing strawberries. It was really nasty, but he told me not to worry about it. He cleaned it and put a bandage on it, but then he didn't show anyone else his hand. He kept it in his pocket, or behind his back, or he clasped his hands together to hide the bandage.”

Jinwoo blinked. “Last week?” he repeated. He vaguely remembered laying in bed, Myungjun beside him. He had reached out to grab Myungjun's hand, but Myungjun, instead, simply curled up closer to him and planted kisses across his neck. He had used the excuse of _my hands are cold_ , and Jinwoo left it at that.

“Last week, yeah. He promised me he'd drink some of your potions to heal faster and get his energy up.” They walked back to the room slowly, allowing Jinwoo some time to mull over all that Sanha said.

Jinwoo hadn't been making any new potions. He assumed Myungjun had no use for them, for the time being; they never disappeared from their dresser, all the vials laid out still as they had been from a few weeks back. Jinwoo had mentioned it one evening as they changed into pajamas, asking why they weren't being used, and Myungjun had responded that he simply didn't exert enough energy to use anything.

Jinwoo had believed him, because Myungjun never had a reason to lie. Myungjun was truthful, always.

“His behavior is weird,” Jinwoo commented as they stopped outside the room door. “You've known him longer – has he ever acted like this before?”

Sanha seemed just as perplexed. The boy shook his head. “No. Even before Minhyuk moved in, I was able to tell when he was sick, or hurt, or just not feeling well. He was never really secretive.”

Jinwoo sighed and glanced at the door before looking back at Sanha. “Thank you for the information,” he murmured, “and for taking care of Minhyuk during all of this. You...you should go home, though. Your father might be getting off his shift sooner or later, and-”

“I'd like to stay,” Sanha asserted, reaching out and grabbing the door handle. “I already bought snacks for my stay here, and I'm not leaving Minhyuk when he's this worried.”

Sanha made a good point. Minhyuk _was_ incredibly worried for his friend, and when Jinwoo opened the door, he noticed the young boy placing a damp washcloth onto Myungjun's forehead and running his fingers through his hair.

“Is he okay?” Jinwoo asked, closing the door behind Sanha.

Minhyuk gave a start, though he relaxed when Sanha wrapped an arm around his waist. “He's...he's fine.”  
“Has his fever gone up?” Jinwoo pointed at the washcloth. “Are you cooling him down?”

“Oh. Um...” Minhyuk removed the washcloth and shook his head. “I, uh, I don't know. He feels rather warm to me. Feel him, doesn't he feel warm?”

But when Jinwoo rest a hand on Myungjun's cheek, he felt it to be a normal temperature. “No, it's – he feels fine.” Jinwoo watched as Minhyuk squeezed the washcloth harshly, as he gnawed at the inside of his cheek and stared down at Myungjun's sleeping figure, and Jinwoo sighed. “Minhyuk, _please_ , go take a break.”

“Jinwoo, you don't get it -”

“No, I do. I understand perfectly fine. You're scared and nervous and you feel guilty. I do, too, and I'm sure Sanha does.”

Sanha, stuffing a treat in his mouth, shrugged his shoulder, and said, “I've been to the hospital before for a fever. Everyone goes at some point or another.”

“See?” Jinwoo offered Minhyuk a small smile. “Even Sanha's used to this.”

Minhyuk didn't seem to be put at ease. He shuffled on his feet, then blurted out, “But Myungjun's a magic user!”

“And so is Sanha,” Jinwoo gently reminded. “And he was fine.” He ruffled Minhyuk's hair. “Likely, Myungjun was already ill this morning, and over-exerting himself caused his body to become too wary and exhausted to continue, but he kept pushing it. He's _asleep_ , not unconscious, and the doctors have already claimed that he'll make a full recovery by tomorrow morning.”

Minhyuk averted his gaze from Myungjun's bed. “I know...I know, but it's just...he doesn't belong there, Jinwoo. It's weird, a-and he hates hospitals. He'll hate this.”

“And you can just let me deal with any grumpiness,” Jinwoo assured him, rubbing at his back. “Go take a walk down to the gift shop with Sanha, alright? Buy him some flowers – I think he'll appreciate seeing that when he wakes up.”

It seemed as if Minhyuk was going to protest, to try and stay longer, but Sanha instantly jumped up to tug at his arm, whining out, “Yeah, Minhyuk, I'm _bored!_ ”

“You just went out with Jinwoo!” Minhyuk fussed, but he was much more relaxed with Jinwoo's reassurances and Sanha's normalcy. He gave a loud sigh before he nodded his head, much to Sanha's delight, and glanced over at Jinwoo. “We'll be quick. And...and text me if anything changes, okay? I want to know.”

Jinwoo promised, and he waved them off before taking over Minhyuk's spot beside the hospital bed.

He stared first up at the machinery, eyes following all of the wires to their stands, gaze studying the consistent lines and the confusing numbers. He had no idea what any of it meant, and so he struggled to understand if they were good or bad signs.

He contemplated calling a doctor and asking for their advice, but he gave up on that idea. Instead, he looked back down.

Myungjun stared sleepily up at him.

“Junnie!” Jinwoo announced, popping out of his seat and instantly grasping onto Myungjun's hands. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

Myungjun blinked and moved his head, glancing around the room before his eyes grew wide in panic. “Jinwoo!” he whispered, squeezing onto Jinwoo's hand. “We-We're at the hospital?”

Jinwoo quieted him, giving gentle shushing sounds and mussing with his hair. Myungjun's eyes snapped back to him, and Jinwoo smiled. “It's okay,” he promised. “They don't know what you are.” He heard Myungjun give a sigh of relief, and he continued, “Minhyuk said...he said you fainted, Junnie. What happened?”

Myungjun was moving about under the blankets, letting out frustrated huffs, and Jinwoo finally figured out what he wanted and assisted him in sitting up. He ensured the pillows were straightened and that Myungjun's head wasn't too far up against the wall, and then he waited again. Myungjun didn't meet his gaze. “I was just sick,” he murmured. “I don't know when I got sick, but I guess I was too sick and didn't notice.”

“You noticed this morning,” Jinwoo retorted lightly, stroking Myungjun's hand. “You knew you weren't feeling well.” When Myungjun said nothing in retaliation, Jinwoo sighed. “Why did you keep it hidden? If you had told me what was going on, you wouldn't have fainted, and you wouldn't currently be in the hospital. What happened?”

“Hindsight.”

“Myungjun, be serious.” Jinwoo stopped his stroking, though he still held onto Myungjun's hand. “You've been keeping many things secret from us, haven't you? Sanha said you got cut a little while back and you hid it from Minhyuk and me. And now you tried to hide your sickness – do you think we'll be upset with you? Because we won't. We never will.”

Myungjun closed his eyes, quiet, and Jinwoo thought he might have fallen asleep again, until he heard the boy murmur, “It wasn't that.”

“Then what?” When Myungjun still chose not to respond, Jinwoo scooted his chair all the closer and kissed his hand, letting his lips linger on each of the knuckles. “Sanha is gone,” he murmured. “Minhyuk, too. Went to go get you some flowers, or some other gift. Minhyuk needed to get out of here. He's wrought with worry, you know. Because this is...this isn't normal, Myungjun, not for you. You don't keep secrets, and we're all just very concerned.”

Myungjun's eyes were filled with regret and guilt, and he cleared his throat before slowly removing his hand from Jinwoo's grasp. “I take care of the household finances,” he mentioned, his voice quiet and hoarse. “And...and your job was fine at first. You made less money than I did. You worked normal hours. You were home at reasonable times, and you didn't have to get up and leave suddenly in the middle of the night. But...but it's different now. You're at the station a lot, and you make more money than I've ever made at the bakery.”

Jinwoo didn't understand the concern. He waited for Myungjun to finish, but his boyfriend kept silent again, biting at his lip and averting his gaze. “Babe,” Jinwoo started, “why's that a bad thing? I enjoy what I do. I'm home often enough – I cook us breakfast, and I've cut a deal with Bin to make sure I'm home at night to sleep next to you. I have one day off a week, and I spend the entire day with you. Is...isn't that enough?”

The sounds from the machines were loud, but Jinwoo tried to ignore them in order to keep focus on Myungjun. “You can take care of yourself,” Myungjun said. He played with his fingers. “You're in a good position in life. You hardly need me anymore. More...more often than not, I need _you_.”

Jinwoo smiled softly. “That's fine,” he said. “Besides, I like taking care of you.”

He didn't miss the way Myungjun visibly tensed, the way he blinked suddenly, rapidly, and he lost his smile. “Myungjun, what's wrong?”

“Y-You don't _need me_ ,” Myungjun replied, his voice trembling. “You're capable o-of caring for yourself, and...and you care for me too much! You make potions for me, even though you tell me you dislike using your magic often. You always stop whatever you're doing if-if I'm hurt or upset. You rush to my side regardless of what problem I have, and...you always care for me.” He took a deep breath. “I can't let you k-keep doing that, Jinwoo. You'll get sick of me. I know you will. You'll leave. An-And so...so I need to take care of myself.”

Jinwoo felt pain for his boyfriend. He shook his head, trying to interject, trying to explain that he'd _never_ leave, but it seemed that Myungjun wasn't finished. “I stopped drinking your potions, so you wouldn't have to make new ones for me. A-Anything bad that happened, I kept it a secret. I took on more clients to show you that I could also make loads of money for us, so you might not work as hard, so you might depend on me more.”

Things made sense, and Jinwoo was able to piece two and two together. It hurt him, knowing that Myungjun was hiding how he felt all this time, and he reached over to grab at Myungjun's hands once again. “So you knew you were sick, but you kept it from me so I wouldn't have to care for you?”

Myungjun nodded his head sullenly. “So I could care for myself,” he confirmed. “So you wouldn't be stuck with me. So-So you wouldn't be sick of me. And I needed to prove it to myself, as well as to you, that I could handle things without you always needing to look after me.” He gave a bitter laugh and held up his hand, at the IV hooked to his skin and the other wires near his chest. “I'm useless, I guess.”

Jinwoo was quite ready with a response, with a retort on how Myungjun was certainly not useless, with exclamations of his love and adoration and loyalty to him. Before he could dive into his spiel, however, the hospital door opened and Minhyuk and Sanha walked inside. Sanha was cheerful, holding onto two vases of flowers, and saying, “We weren't sure which ones to get, so Minhyuk and I both chose our favorites – is he awake?”

Sanha's question sent Minhyuk into a frenzy, hurrying forward and nearly shoving Jinwoo right out of the way. “Myungjun!” the young boy gasped. “Myungjun, are you okay? What happened? Why the hell did you hide your fever – do you know how scared I was? I was _so_ scared, Sanha and I were freaking out – what the hell did you do this for?”

It was overwhelming, definitely, for Myungjun, who stared up at his best friend in slight panic.

Jinwoo stepped in, placing a hand on Minhyuk's shoulder and pulling him back. “Myungjun is fine,” he assured. “But, Minhyuk, I need about five minutes alone with him.”

“But-!”

“Five minutes, I swear. Then you can come in and ask him anything you want to.”

“But he _fainted_ , and I found him!” Minhyuk fussed, once more trying to push Jinwoo aside. “I need to make sure he's alright.”

Myungjun cleared his throat, capturing the attention of all his friends. He still had tears in his eyes, but he said, “Minhyuk, I really need to talk to Jinwoo alone for the moment.”

Myungjun's words seemed to get through, and Minhyuk gave a resigned nod. “Alright,” he murmured. “But I want every single word of whatever he says, okay, Jinwoo? I have every right to know, as his best friend.”

“Right, right,” Jinwoo worked on herding Minhyuk and Sanha back out into the hallway. “Sanha? Make sure he doesn't try and listen in, alright?”

Jinwoo had full faith in Sanha to attempt to control his boyfriend, but he definitely didn't have full faith in Sanha's resolve. All it took was one word from Minhyuk, and Sanha would cave instantly. So, as Jinwoo closed the door, he whispered out a spell, allowing a small bit of magical energy to flow through his fingers and encompass the front entrance.

Myungjun watched him curiously, and as Jinwoo turned around, he asked, “What was that?”

Jinwoo took a seat again. “Mutes our conversation from that point out,” he said. “So you can talk in peace, without worrying about anyone overhearing.” He resumed holding onto Myungjun's hands and planting kisses on them in between his speaking. “I'll be telling him everything later, but for now, I think it's best if we're able to keep things secret.”

Myungjun looked relieved, and Jinwoo was proud that he had done the right thing. “Well,” he mumbled, glancing down at their joined hands. “I struggled today. Which I guess you can probably tell. I...I didn't want you to know I was sick. You'd take off work, maybe. Or you'd make more potions or perform more magic. So I lied, and I kept allowing clients to come in. I couldn't revive one lady's cat. I nearly fainted. But the next animal that came in, I was determined to bring it back to life. And I did it, and I was so happy, but once the guy left, I stood up and...and I fainted, I guess. I don't remember anything except just...just now waking up.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I can't even prove to you that I can take care of myself. I can't even do _that_.”

“You needn't prove anything to me,” Jinwoo told him, bending over to kiss Myungjun's forehead. “Myungjun, babe, I know you're capable of anything. I'm happy to make the potions, and I'm happy to give you some of my energy. You help me, too – you comfort me after I've had nightmares, and you allow me the chance to listen to your voice if I'm plagued with bad thoughts. You're not weak, but you have moments of weakness. Just like I'm not weak, but I have my own moments of weakness. If you were sick, I might take time off to care for you, and I'd be so grateful that I'm in a position to care for you.” He brushed aside Myungjun's hair and smiled down at him. “This relationship is not supposed to be one of us caring for the other. It's _both_ of us caring for each other. I think it's been like that since the start, and I'm happy to continue the cycle.”

“But lately, y-you've been doing everything,” Myungjun argued. “You make breakfast, and sometimes you make dinner. You kiss me goodnight. You come visit me at the bakery to give me energy. I-I don't have a chance to do much of that in return, and it sucks, knowing that I'm the useless one of the two of us.”

“If I hear you say that you're useless one more time, Myungjun, I'm just going to quit my job and spend the rest of my life writing poetry over how useful you are.” He scoffed and squeezed Myungjun's hand lightly, gathering his attention. “Do you remember who brought all of my plants to life? Do you know who _continues_ to bring all my plants to life? And how about the person who brought _me_ back to life? The person who gave me a home, gave me a family, gave me friends and a _life_ to call my own? Do you remember that?” He kissed Myungjun's cheek, letting his lips linger as he whispered, “You gave me the courage to face my past and to overcome it. You gave me the strength to keep going. You gave me the confidence to better myself. You saved me, in every single way possible, and you love me, in every single way possible.”

When he drew back, he noticed more tears in Myungjun's eyes. One tear fell, beginning its descent down Myungjun's face, following with the curve of his cheek. Jinwoo hurried to wipe it away, which made Myungjun sniff and cry all the more.

“I-I'm sorry,” Myungjun whispered, trying to stop himself from crying. “I'm sorry f-for doing this to myself, and f-for making you guys all worry. I just...I thought I could handle it myself. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine, babe. You're fine.” Jinwoo was careful as he stood and sat on the bed, turning so he was in the same position as Myungjun. It was slightly uncomfortable, but Myungjun curled into his open arms and rest on his shoulder. Kissing his forehead, Jinwoo could still detect a slight trace of the fever; no doubt the exhaustion of fainting and the onslaught of illness caused Myungjun's emotions to lose control.

And, no doubt, Jinwoo would be there for him. “We're staying overnight,” Jinwoo murmured, “so do you mind if I sleep here with you?”

“It won't be co-cozy,” Myungjun pointed out.

“Oh, I don't think I'll even notice. Not with you by my side. I'll be happiest if I'm plastered up against you.”

Fortunately, his words caused Myungjun to giggle. The boy in his arms closed his eyes and sniffed once more. “We'll be more comfortable at home,” he promised in a whisper.

Jinwoo, though, was never uncomfortable with Myungjun right beside him. After all, it was impossible to be uncomfortable when he was in the presence of his home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its so close to being done!
> 
> come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter.com/nightmjare)) to see a doll im working on (its an astro doll) and to annoy me! (follow my twitter yall)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so we're on the second-to-last chapter. it's bittersweet :')

When Jinwoo awoke that morning, he knew that he wanted to marry Kim Myungjun.

He had always wanted to marry Myungjun. From the moment they shared their first kiss and onward, Jinwoo wanted to spend the rest of his life with Myungjun by his side, using the shared title of _husbands_ , living for each other and working together as a team. He had never thought that marriage would be possible for a magic user, for a _witch_ , but, then again, he never thought his life as it was would ever be possible.

He had a late night at the office. Dongmin had asked him to stay later as they rummaged through case files and worked on cracking a particularly mysterious crime. No breakthroughs had been made, which, Dongmin explained, was common for detective work – though, still on his first few months, Jinwoo found himself discouraged by a lack of progress.

He came home to Myungjun waiting for him, curled up in bed and blearily blinking open his eyes the moment Jinwoo walked through the door.

“Babe,” Jinwoo whispered quietly, shrugging off his jacket and laying it over the foot of the bed. “You should be asleep. It's late.”

Myungjun yawned. His hair was a tangled mess and his pajamas rode up to reveal his belly, but he didn't move much. “Wanted to wait for you,” he mumbled. He watched, sleepily, as Jinwoo changed out of his work clothes. “I was waiting in the living room, but I was tempted by the bed. My willpower is weak.”

Jinwoo snorted. He hung his pants up before grabbing a t-shirt and tossing it on. “You don't have to wait up for me every single night, you know.”

“I know,” Myungjun agreed. He scooted over as Jinwoo crawled into bed. “But, I want to.”

“But you don't _have to_.”

“But I _want to_ ,” Myungjun giggled, and the moment Jinwoo laid down, Myungjun curled into his side. The older boy stretched his limbs out over Jinwoo's body, feet splayed across Jinwoo's knees, arms tucked underneath his back. “All couples wait for each other to come home.” Myungjun planted a kiss onto Jinwoo's cheek and murmured, “How was work?”

“Long,” Jinwoo sighed. He held Myungjun close to him, breathing in his scent, of cookies and frosting and a little bit of earth. “But I think it's all wrapped up nicely.”

Myungjun hummed into Jinwoo's chest, nuzzling his face into his boyfriend's shirt. “Did you catch the bad guy?” he asked.

“No.” Jinwoo and Dongmin had yet to catch any criminals or villains in their current case. They had yet to solve the mystery of what exactly happened in the death of a middle-aged gentleman. Things were gruesome and worrisome and upsetting. But, at the end of the day, Jinwoo had Myungjun to come home to.

And he had Myungjun to wake up to, as well.

When he opened his eyes, squinting from the bright, early morning sun, Myungjun still lay in his arms. His eyelids fluttered, dreams playing behind them, and Jinwoo watched for a few seconds before planting a soft, gentle kiss onto Myungjun's forehead.

He decided, right then and there, he needed to marry Kim Myungjun.

He knew they would always be together, married or not. It was unlikely that Myungjun would ever leave him, just as it was unlikely Jinwoo would ever leave Myungjun. They didn't need any rings or priestly confirmation to assure that they were an eternal couple.

Marriage, though, was the next big step in Jinwoo's life to normalcy. He had dreamed of weddings, anyway, back when he lived with Doyun, back when he thought it _might_ be possible. He had wondered of the man who would wait with him under the alter. Sometimes, even when he tried to convince himself that he loved Doyun, all he could see of the man was a blurred face, a blank slate for Jinwoo to uncover.

It had never been Doyun.

It had always been Myungjun.

Jinwoo wanted to marry whoever would become his home. Jinwoo wanted to spend the rest of his life with _home_. And Myungjun had quickly and easily taken that position.

His heart pounded heavily in his chest as Myungjun turned over. His heart felt like it expanded, grew too large, to contain all of his love for the man who lay before him.

“I love you,” Jinwoo whispered. Myungjun's sleeping form gave no response, yet Jinwoo continued. “I've always loved you. Even before I met you, I think, I was in love with someone who would become you. I was in love with whoever would be my best friend, my confidant, my boyfriend...my fiance. My husband.”

Myungjun slept on, and Jinwoo just grinned. His face hurt from how wide his smile stretched, but he couldn't quell his enthusiasm.

“I'll ask you. I'll ask you to marry me later today. Oh, god, I need a ring, and...and permission! I need permission from your parents. But I'll get it. I'll call them. I'm going to marry you, Myungjun.”

Myungjun heard nothing, but Jinwoo was satisfied enough with the conversation. He hurried out of bed, moving as quietly as possible, and dressed himself for the day ahead.

Myungjun woke just to give him a small kiss. He draped his arms around Jinwoo's neck, and gave no indication that any of Jinwoo's words had been heard. “When will you be back, Jinjin?” he asked.

Jinwoo kissed Myungjun's forehead. “Late,” he answered. When Myungjun whined, Jinwoo giggled and ran his fingers through Myungjun's hair. “You know I'll keep texting you throughout the entire day.”

“Dongmin told me to knock off with the texting,” Myungjun admitted. He ran his hand up and down Jinwoo's arm. “Said that you two had more important things to do.”

With a frown, Jinwoo shook his head. “Nothing is more important than my Junnie,” he responded.

“See, I told him that. I told him _we_ were the most important.”

“And we are.” Jinwoo poked Myungjun's nose, earning himself a giggle. “I'll talk him out of it, don't worry. I'll keep texting you.” He gave Myungjun one last kiss, one last smile, before heading off to work. Excitement coursed through his veins as he rushed outside. He felt giddy with love, floating in the clouds, and once Dongmin's car pulled up, Jinwoo opened the passenger seat door and declared, “I'm going to propose to Myungjun.”

Dongmin, still placing the car in park, just looked confused. “Huh?”

Jinwoo scooted into his seat and closed the door behind him. He smiled widely and tugged his seatbelt on. “Dongmin, I'm going to propose to Myungjun,” he repeated. “I'm going to give him a ring, and I'm going to ask him to marry me.”

“That's...what?” Dongmin's eyes widened as he comprehended what Jinwoo was talking about. “Oh, god, seriously? You two are getting _married?_ ” When Jinwoo nodded proudly, Dongmin laughed and clapped his hands together. “That's amazing, Jinwoo! Do you have a ring ready?”

“No.” Jinwoo supposed that was a dilemma he needed to figure out. He leaned back in his seat and pursed his lips. “And I haven't asked his parents, either.”

Dongmin gave a small hum. “Well, you definitely need to find a ring, but I don't think that asking Myungjun's parents is the most necessary thing to do. That's too traditional.”

“I want traditional. That'd be cute!” Jinwoo cooed. “Do you know how long I've wanted to do all of this? I read about marriages and engagements, and I wanted it exactly as it sounded. I want the whole stupid, cliched engagement period, even if it involves calling Myungjun's parents and asking for their son's hand in marriage.”

Jinwoo picked his phone up, but before he could get any further, Dongmin reached out to stop him. “If you want to make even more of an impact,” he suggested, “why don't we go over to their house and ask them?”

“What?”

“Yeah!” Dongmin nodded in enthusiasm. “I think they'll be impressed if you drove all that way. Besides, it's more polite to actually ask them in person.”

“But...” Jinwoo glanced at the clock on Dongmin's dashboard – 7:00AM. “It's...hours away. And we have to get to work.”

Dongmin scoffed. “Like we'd get any further, anyway. I'm sure the force can handle one day without us. I can call Bin and tell him to cover – he's great, he'll get it done even if we're away.”

Jinwoo knew that leaving behind his responsibilities – his _work_ – wasn't the best of ideas. However, the thought of being able to propose properly to Myungjun by the end of the day superseded all of Jinwoo's other plans for the afternoon. He could wait one extra day to find a killer. Perhaps it was irresponsible of him, but he _wanted_ this. He _needed_ this.

So, with a nod, he smiled at Dongmin. “If you're okay with it, I really wouldn't mind visiting his parents and asking their permission.”

Dongmin seemed pleased, and he started up the car. “Fantastic!” he exclaimed as they drove away, in the opposite direction of the police station. “I'm not kidding, Jinwoo, when I say that I've been wanting you two to get married for the longest time.”

Jinwoo certainly believed it. Despite their slight age difference, Dongmin treated Jinwoo kindly, as both some sort of younger brother and older figure. He fretted after him constantly, kept him close and kept him safe. Jinwoo had first wondered if it was, perhaps, done out of respect for Myungjun, but Dongmin read his mind. Dongmin told him that it came from a place of genuine care. Dongmin was simply fond of Jinwoo, and hoped they could be friends.

Though Jinwoo had only been a junior detective for a small amount of time, Dongmin had slowly uncovered a majority of Jinwoo's secrets. Dongmin certainly abused his magical powers when he felt it necessary to do so, and Jinwoo couldn't very well blame him. Sometimes it seemed necessary. Sometimes, Jinwoo faltered or hesitated or else broke down. His past was mostly behind him, but there was the occasional moment where it reared its ugly head and threatened to tear him apart. He would panic, breath coming out in short pants, and Dongmin always took over. He would allow Jinwoo privacy in Bin's larger, secluded office, away from the stares and questions of the rest of the police force. He would bring water, or snacks, or, most importantly, Jinwoo's phone with Myungjun on the other end. He never once asked anything, never once displayed his curiosity.

He figured out anyway. There was once he deemed it necessary to read Jinwoo's mind, to uncover just what, exactly, had befallen upon him in the past. The look of pity was terrible, almost too much to take, and Jinwoo sat down with Dongmin to discuss all that he had seen.

From then on, Dongmin had become a close friend. Jinwoo had felt comfort with the knowledge that Dongmin was aware of his struggles, and Dongmin helped Jinwoo through everything.

Even, apparently, skipping work in order to make things perfect to propose to his boyfriend.

“You really didn't have to do this,” Jinwoo said. They were half-way to Myungjun's parents' house. Bin had already been made aware of their travel (and he was slightly disappointed he wasn't invited), and Dongmin was humming along (badly) to whatever song the radio was playing. He quieted as Jinwoo spoke, instantly turning his attention onto his friend. “I mean, it's a silly thing to do, isn't it? Maybe I should've just called them.”

In response, Dongmin shrugged his shoulders. He glanced at Jinwoo once before turning back to look at the road. “I don't think so. I mean, I think it's romantic, you going so far out of your way just to make everything _perfect_. When I marry Binnie, I think I'd like to do the same thing.”

“ _When?_ ” Jinwoo teased. “Are you planning anything?”

“Hey, Binnie and I have been dating longer than you and Myungjun have! I'd be a fool if I were to let our relationship go to waste and just never tie the knot. I'm biding my time, though – you and Myungjun have always been more spontaneous than Binnie and I have.” Dongmin hesitated, then corrected, “More spontaneous than _I_ have.”

Jinwoo scoffed and turned his gaze out his window, watching the countryside fly by. “You can be spontaneous, too, if you really work at it. I'll have Myungjun give you some tips.”

“No need. I'm learning from you already.”

Even if it was a silly thing to be proud over, Jinwoo still felt proud that he was able to teach Dongmin something. He wanted to continue that going forth in life. He hoped he would be able to teach Myungjun and Minhyuk and Sanha and Bin, as well. He hoped, possibly in the future, he could teach his children.

Not just about spontaneity. Anything, really, that he picked up on and wanted to share with others. Valuable information he learned from working at the police station, life advice from his own mistakes, suggestions of how to woo men – he supposed he did well enough at that.

As they neared Myungjun's childhood home, Jinwoo's excitement grew. He couldn't believe what he was about to ask. He hadn't spoken much to Myungjun's parents by himself, without Myungjun by his side, and now he was prepared to question if he could change their son into a married man.

Dongmin pulled into the driveway of the house and stopped the car. He glanced over at Jinwoo with a smile on his face. “Go on,” he comforted, gesturing to the house as Jinwoo stayed in his seat.

“Y-You're not coming with me?”

“I have no reason to.”

Jinwoo frowned. He would feel better with some support by his side, leading him on and helping if he felt too flustered. Dongmin was always well-spoken and composed, and Jinwoo needed someone like that if he was to ask such a difficult question.

“You...you have plenty reason,” Jinwoo assured. “Mostly the reason of my inevitable screw-up.”

“You _won't_ screw up.”

“You don't know that.” Jinwoo didn't release his seat belt. He gripped onto it, instead, tugging at it lightly and not once taking his eyes away from the house in front of him. “I've screwed up a lot before in my life.”

“You have _not_.”

“I have!” Jinwoo snapped, finally looking over at Dongmin. He grit his teeth down and took a deep breath. The excitement seemed to be dwindling, replaced instead by fear and dread. “Dongmin, my entire life has been nothing but a screw up. I mean, I was born a witch.” He gave a bitter laugh. “If that isn't testament to how terrible I am, I don't know what is.”

Dongmin regarded him with pity, again, and Jinwoo looked away. “Jinwoo, you can't choose who you're born as. I'm a mind-reader, and I didn't choose that. If I could, I would be born someone else, someone normal. I'm sure you would be, too.”

“I chose to...to do whatever I did to make my mom give me up,” Jinwoo argued. “I must have done _something_ , or else I could have stayed with her and hid my identity.”

“Jinwoo-”

“And I screwed up multiple times when I had no home. I sold potions to the wrong person, or else I took compensation instead of money for the work I did, and...and I told Doyun who I was and screwed up in choosing to go with him, and-” He sighed. “You know how that was.”

Dongmin had no response, but none was needed. Jinwoo simply leaned forward, the seat belt digging slightly into his stomach, as he mumbled, “What if I screw this up?” he whispered. “The one thing I want more than anything else in this world...what if I screw it up?”

“I've met Myungjun's parents,” Dongmin blurted out. “They're wonderful and sweet, and if you get flustered or make a mistake, they won't ever hold it against you. They want Myungjun to be happy; _you_ are his happiness.” Dongmin sounded so sincere, and when Jinwoo glanced over, the man's eyes were sparkling and he wore a wide smile across his face.

He knew that Dongmin was right. He didn't even need to see the honestly shining in his gaze to understand that to be true. Myungjun's parents were kind and understanding, and they wouldn't care how much Jinwoo screwed up by asking them a simple question.

He took a deep breath and finally released himself from his seat belt. “Alright,” he said. “And...and you'll wait here?”

Dongmin nodded. “I will.”

“And if I need help, for some reason, maybe I can look back and gesture to you and you can come?”

The younger man sighed, though he looked amused. “Let's not have it come down to that,” he said, teasing. “Just do your best. Just ask them that question, and tell them why you want to marry Myungjun. I'm sure they want you to marry him, as well.”

So Jinwoo left the car. Each step closer to the house made his anxiety race and his nerves go chaotic. He wanted to turn around, to shoot them a text with his question, instead, but he knew he couldn't live with himself if he didn't do things properly.

He had to ask them, face to face. He had to make sure he first had their permission, their blessing, to marry their son, and then he could get on with the rest of his life.

The front door loomed over him after a few seconds. He was too scared to knock, and he glanced back over at Dongmin. The man just smiled, even as Jinwoo frantically gestured for his assistance. Dongmin stayed put, shaking his head and continuing to watch from his safe spot in the driveway.

Jinwoo knew, though, this was something best done alone. He couldn't have Dongmin hold his hand and lead him through life. He needed to be proactive. He needed to do things without Dongmin's constant presence.

He finally knocked on the door and held his breath.

Myungjun's father answered. He looked surprised, his eyes widening, but he grinned, regardless, and opened the door wider. “Jinwoo!” he exclaimed. “I didn't – we didn't expect you! Is Myungjun here, too?” Myungjun's father peered out of the doorway, glancing at Dongmin's car.

“N-No. Um...no, he didn't come. That's...that's Dongmin.”

Myungjun's mother, spurred by the commotion her husband was making, hurried behind him. She halted in her steps when she, too, caught sight of Jinwoo, but she recovered nicely. “Hello, Jinwoo! Did you come for a visit? Or – ooh, Myungjun told us you were a detective! Are you going to be doing work around here?”

“No.” Jinwoo rejected those questions, too, and he steeled himself, clenching his fists by his sides, before blurting out, “I'd like your permission to take your son as my husband.”

There was a quick bout of silence as Myungjun's parents processed what it was Jinwoo had just said. He could see, though, excitement lighting up in their gazes, and without much warning, Myungjun's mother gasped loudly, suddenly, and grabbed at her husband's arm. “You're going to _marry him?_ ” she asked.

“With...with your approval and permission,” Jinwoo stated, a correction.

“Did you think we'd ever say no to you?” Mr. Kim laughed and shook his head. “You've been a part of this family the moment Myungjun introduced you to us! Honestly, I couldn't...I couldn't imagine him with anyone else at this point.” He was grinning, his enthusiasm difficult to hide, and he said, “Once you marry, you'll be able to adopt children. And I would want for my grandchildren to have married parents, anyway, in a nice, loving household-”

“Shh!” Mrs. Kim playfully slapped his chest. “They aren't even married yet! Don't scare him away!”

Nothing, though, could have ever scared Jinwoo away. He was relieved he had Myungjun's parents' blessing. That was his first step, his first obstacle to overcome, in creating a brand new life for themselves.

“The second thing I need to do,” he told them, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “is to find a ring.”

They all came with Jinwoo to find the perfect ring. Dongmin drove them, and he seemed pleased to meet up with Myungjun's parents again. He told them of his own romantic life, and they cheered when he mentioned that he was dating Bin.

“Bin was so kind when he stayed with us,” Mrs. Kim said, reminiscing. “He ate all my food so well!”

Mostly, though, they talked about Jinwoo's plans. Mr. Kim kept trying to imply babies and grandchildren, but Jinwoo didn't even want to think that far into the future. He took things day-by-day with Myungjun by his side, and they weren't about to change in order to plan years and years in advance. All Jinwoo knew was that he simply wanted to be connected to Myungjun on a deeper level than how he was now. He wanted to show the world that he loved only Myungjun, and Myungjun loved only him.

The ring was an important part of that process – until the marriage, at least. But marriage bands were something they would choose together, choose themselves. This was _just_ for Myungjun, something Jinwoo needed desperate help in finding.

Dongmin was the one who uncovered the perfect ring. He grinned as he pointed it out, nodded his head with a smug arrogance as Jinwoo gasped and Myungjun's mother exclaimed, “That's the one!”

It was a simple band of silver, the metal made to look like vines that intertwined into a small circle. There was no gemstone, no gaudy design to it. It was simple and modern and it _fit_. All Jinwoo could think of as he watched the saleswoman pick it up was how well it would fit Myungjun, both physically and spiritually. It would encompass everything Myungjun was; his necromancy, his enthusiasm, his ability to grow and to bind people together.

Jinwoo no longer felt like hesitating over his decisions anymore. He was quick to agree to buy it, and he felt the weight of it in his pocket as he hugged Myungjun's parents and offered them his thanks.

Mrs. Kim kissed his forehead. Her eyes were filled with tears and she sniffed. “You're going to make my son the happiest he's ever been,” she murmured, spilling the same thoughts Dongmin told him she would have. “I know you'll take care of him, and I know you'll love him. You're perfect for him, Jinwoo. You're perfect.”

Mr. Kim expressed his desire for grandchildren once more, laughing as Jinwoo flinched back from the word. “In time!” he exclaimed, patting Jinwoo's shoulder and gesturing toward Dongmin's care. “Now go get him, Jinwoo.”

 

Jinwoo had an extravagant plan on how to propose. He planned it all out with Dongmin, and even texted Bin for his assistance. It involved a candlelit dinner by the beach, and music that would play as Jinwoo pulled out the ring. It involved fireworks and sparklers and everything that Jinwoo associated with an important, romantic event.

All he had to do was tell Myungjun that he wanted to head out to the beach.

Dongmin sat outside in his car waiting for him. Bin was already headed down to the beach. Minhyuk and Sanha were welcome to come, if they were still in the apartment, but _Myungjun_ was the most important, the most crucial.

Jinwoo developed an elaborate lie to explain every single part of the plan that Myungjun might question. He had answers ready for any _why_ 's, _how_ 's, _when_ 's, and _where_ 's. He was confident and ready, and yet-

Yet he faltered the moment he walked into the apartment and saw Myungjun sitting on one of the kitchen tables.

“Jinwoo!” Myungjun exclaimed, hopping out of his seat. “Bin texted and said you would be at work for later. Mentioned that you almost caught the bad guy. And you must've done it if you're here early! Oh, my sweet, smart, strong boyfriend!” Myungjun rushed for him, giggling. “You work so hard! You earn everything that-”

He couldn't finish his rambling; not while Jinwoo was bending down on one knee, anyway.

Jinwoo couldn't wait. The plan was stupid, because he was weak. He knew once he saw Myungjun again, he had to propose. He had to ask for his hand in marriage as soon as possible.

He couldn't find it in himself to care much, however. All he could think of was _home, home, home_.

Because home was what Myungjun had become to him.

He watched Myungjun's eyes grew wide, and he reached into his pocket for the ring. “Myungjun,” he whispered. The box was now in the palm of his hand, a black velvet that encased the ring inside. It was a symbol of all the love they had given each other, and all the love they had to give for the rest of their lives.

“Jinwoo-” Myungjun started, voice hushed, and while his lips quivered and his eyes became red-rimmed, he still grinned, already guessing what Jinwoo's next step would be. He prematurely nodded, and yet Jinwoo still continued to ask his question.

He was a traditional, after all, and Myungjun was his home.

“Myungjun,” he said again, and he opened the box. “Myungjun, please, marry me.”

And Jinwoo knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, before any proper answer could be given, that Myungjun was to be his home for the rest of his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CHAPTER. i'm hopeful to have it up by this Monday, mostly because I've planned for this last chapter since before I even started writing on Home. I'm so excited to share it with you guys and I hope you will all wait patiently and enjoy!
> 
> come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter.com/nightmjare))!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im rlly sad

_Nine Years Later_

 

Quiet mornings were a blessing these days. Jinwoo liked to remember, back when he first started dating Myungjun, the sleepy, lazy mornings they would share together, the kisses that would come in between yawns, the bleary-eyed, soft gazes sent to each other, the repeated words of, “We should be getting up,” and yet no movement being made. He missed those days, sometimes, missed the simplicity of it all.

Still, he couldn't help but enjoy and appreciate the hectic and loud mornings life now had to offer him.

He woke up one particular morning to little hands shaking him, to soft murmurs of, “Dad, Dad, wake up!”

If it was anyone other than his son by his side, Jinwoo probably wouldn't have opened his eyes. As it was, he recognized the voice and the touch and he knew he had to get himself out of bed.

“Morning, Woojin,” Jinwoo mumbled, craning his neck to get a good look at his son.

Woojin was small, only five years old. He was full of boundless energy and inherent curiosity for the world around him. He had a mop of curly, dark hair upon his head and soft, brown eyes that like to stare with childish innocence at whomever had his attention for the moment.

Jinwoo loved him beyond all measure, and he would gladly wake up, even after only a couple of hours of sleep, for a chance to see his son.

Woojin grinned and hopped up onto the bed, tiny arms pulling at the sheets around Jinwoo's body. “Dad, you came home late last night!” he exclaimed.

Jinwoo grabbed onto him and hugged him close, causing Woojin to laugh loudly. “Didn't I, though? I'm sorry, honey. We were busy at the police station.” He kissed Woojin's cheek and then sat himself up in bed. Woojin instantly got comfortable in his lap and snuggled his head into Jinwoo's chest.

Their room was larger, far larger than what they had at the apartment in Boryeong. They had moved after Myungjun suggested adopting a child; one glance around the crowded, messy apartment reminded them that no child could grow up well in those circumstances.

Jinwoo transferred to a smaller police station out in the countryside. He served as the department's head detective, and, as such, often had to stay later through the night to finish his work. He knew it wasn't ideal while his family was still growing and learning, but he did what he could to catch up with them the following morning.

Woojin always appreciated Jinwoo's efforts to remain involve. He eagerly took each chance he could get, and so early mornings such as this called for cuddling and talking. Myungjun always declared that Woojin was always ecstatic to see him; Jinwoo's heart felt like it could burst from imagining it.

“Dad, I learned a lot in school yesterday!” Woojin exclaimed, instantly delving right into the crux of their mornings. “I got taught more of my times table, and spelling, and we learned about places around the world! Like...like places in Japan – Dad, have you ever been to Japan?”

Jinwoo kissed Woojin's cheek again, filled with absolute adoration for his son. “I haven't,” he admitted.

“Oh. Maybe we can go on a trip to Japan! Can we do that, Dad?”

Jinwoo didn't like to make tough decisions; he also hated telling Woojin _no_ , and so he tickled his son's belly, relishing in his high-pitched laughter, and said, “I'm not sure. You'll have to ask Daddy. He'll have the answer.”

Woojin nodded his head, still giggling from Jinwoo's playful attack. “Maybe Daddy will say yes! Do you think he'll say yes?”

“He might,” Jinwoo replied. Myungjun might appreciate a trip to Japan, anyway. He liked taking little vacations with his family, and while they had yet to go overseas, he might find the idea intriguing. Speaking of his husband, though, Jinwoo suddenly realized the spot in bed beside him was empty. He glanced over at it, at cold bedsheets, and asked, “Woojin, where _is_ Daddy?”

Woojin gasped and gave Jinwoo the sign for _quiet_ , before gesturing into the kitchen. “He's...he's cooking.”

“Cooking?” They didn't often cook for breakfast. They would eat leftovers, or else fruit or cereal from their pantry. “Why's Daddy cooking?”

“I can't tell you!” Woojin whispered. “It's a surprise for your...your 'versary.”

“My...what? Oh!” Jinwoo instantly understood Woojin's childish pronunciation and he laughed. “Our anniversary?” He was grateful his son mentioned it; Jinwoo forgot today marked the ninth year of his marriage to Myungjun. Time had really flown by, and while they sometimes didn't have the most elaborate celebrations for anniversaries and birthdays as they used to, they still held within them deep love for each other.

“Yeah! But I can't tell you that.” Woojin held a finger up to his lips; Jinwoo copied him.

“Alright. You didn't tell me.” Jinwoo couldn't help but smile widely, and he hugged Woojin close to him. “Is your sister with Myungjun?” he asked.

Woojin, still within the embrace, nodded his head. “She cried this morning; she was mean to Sherlock.”

“What did she do to my cat?” Jinwoo questioned, though he wasn't too concerned; Myungjun would always ensure no bad fate fell onto any animals around him.

“She pulled his tail. Daddy got mad at her and gave her a timeout.”

While punishment was necessary, Jinwoo couldn't help but feel slight pity to his two-year old daughter. He was sure she meant no harm by her actions. Sometimes, children just played a little too rough. “Is she doing okay now?” Jinwoo asked.

Woojin kept nodding his head. “She's watching Daddy cook. And Sherlock is on his cat tree! He meowed, so Daddy said he's fine.”

Jinwoo had no doubt that his cat was fine, and he was pleased to know that his daughter, too, had gotten over her small punishment.

“So Daddy's cooking me an anniversary breakfast, and it's a secret, right?” Jinwoo confirmed with his son, who nodded his head seriously. “And I'm not supposed to know about it, right? Or mention it at all?”

“Right!” Woojin exclaimed, nodding his head seriously. “Promise, Dad?”

He held out his pinky, which Jinwoo quickly accepted. “Oh, I promise. I will not breathe a word about this meal.”

However, Myungjun seemed to guess that Jinwoo was aware of _something_ , mostly because Jinwoo was a terrible actor. He walked into the bedroom with the meal on a tray not even two minutes after Woojin had given up the secret. He smiled widely and held out the food. Behind him trailed little Soojin, their two-year old daughter. They adopted her after Myungjun had cried that he didn't want Woojin to grow so quickly. He liked the presence of babies in his house, and so after careful consideration, they added on one more child to their family.

Jinwoo liked to tease Myungjun and ask if he needed yet _another_ baby. Myungjun, worn out from years of wrangling diapers and pacifiers, sighed heavily and said, “No more.”

Soojin was shy compared to Woojin. She only liked their close, immediate family, and maybe Sanha; the rest of their friends, she would try to hide from. Jinwoo knew she would grow out of it someday, so he didn't worry too much. She was perfect, anyway, and he loved her just as much as he loved Woojin.

“Morning!” Myungjun greeted, and he placed the tray of food over Jinwoo's lap. He came out with a gorgeous breakfast spread, traditional Korean breakfast foods mixed with more modern, Western tastes. Jinwoo's mouth watered, and he instantly picked up his chopstick. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “For me? Oh, Myungjun, what's, um, what's the occasion?”

Myungjun hadn't aged a bit, Jinwoo always thought. Though nine years had passed, though he ought to develop wrinkles and graying hair and a changing body shape, he somehow managed to remain the same as he had years ago, back when Jinwoo first met him.

Now, he sat down next to Jinwoo, pulling Soojin up onto his lap. He regarded Jinwoo cautiously for a second before sighing. “You knew.”

“What?”

“You can't act. You falter in all of your lies.” Myungjun narrowed his eyes and, as he wrapped his arms around Soojin, he glanced at his son, who squeaked and hid behind Jinwoo's arm. “Woojin!” Myungjun exclaimed, shocked. “Did you tell Dad what I was doing?”

Woojin shook his head, but he didn't move or else respond.

Myungjun scoffed. “You've betrayed me. My own son, a traitor.”

Recognizing his father's silliness, Woojin just giggled, still holding tightly onto Jinwoo. “Dad asked, though!”

“I did,” Jinwoo confirmed, deciding he would take the fall for his son. “I was wondering why you weren't beside me.”

“I'd much rather still be in bed,” Myungjun admitted. “I woke up early for this, too. Here, you eat this. And happy anniversary.” He leaned over and placed a swift kiss to Jinwoo's head before standing up again, Soojin in his arms. “Woojin, come on, baby. We have to keep getting you ready for school.”

They all left at the same time. Soojin was dressed in her cutest clothes, a little dress with sunflowers printed all over it and braids in her thin, wispy hair. Woojin wore his school uniform and carried his tiny umbrella with him – it was supposed to rain today, so said the weathermen, and Myungjun refused to let his children go off unprepared.

They would part ways at the bus stop. Jinwoo kissed Woojin's head and Soojin's cheek, and then made sure to give Myungjun two kisses before drawing back. “I'll come eat lunch with you,” he said, smiling brightly at his husband. “Remember to call your parents and confirm what time we're dropping the kids off at their place.”

Myungjun's parents had embraced their role as loving grandparents. Their house was filled with life again, as they had become the official babysitters for Woojin and Soojin. Now, too, as Myungjun and Jinwoo prepared for their mountain trip, they needed someone to watch their kids for the weekend, and Myungjun's parents had jumped at the request.

Woojin looked up at Myungjun and clapped his hands together. “Grandpa said he'd take me fishing!” the young boy exclaimed. “And he said Grandma and Soojin might go to the library!”

Myungjun grinned at his young daughter, still wrapped in his arms. “I'm sure Soojin will enjoy that,” he said, peppering kisses all along her face. “She likes the picture books the best.”

Jinwoo never worried about leaving their children alone. He knew Myungjun's parents would take the best care of them as possible. It also gave him the chance to enjoy some solitude with Myungjun, just as they would when they were younger and still learning how to handle the world.

Now, it seemed, they had a pretty good grasp on life. Jinwoo only made potions for Myungjun; his magic went unneeded, otherwise. Even as a detective, he had learned how to handle cases on his own, without the use of any magic skills. He developed the traits and techniques Bin and Dongmin taught him and, as such, became a valuable addition to the team.

Living in a small town meant that he only had a few cases to deal with, and hardly any of them were overly necessary for immediate attention. It meant, too, that he could spend time with Myungjun during lunch. Every day was special, because at exactly 1:00PM, he would tell his junior detective, “See you in an hour,” and he would rush down to Myungjun's shop.

Myungjun left the bakery in Minhyuk's capable hands. With new additions to their menu, and Sanha's charm to draw customers in, the place could run just fine without Myungjun's necromancy skills. Besides, they were a little too far from their friends just for Myungjun to continue working there. He opened up a new shop for his flowers instead.

Myungjun's flowers were always vibrant and alive. They were displayed beautifully in the large windows, enticing the townspeople to pop inside and look for any new additions. Many people wondered how he was able to keep his flowers alive regardless of the season. Myungjun liked to sell them his own soil mixture and several of his painted pots, claiming those were the reasons why his flowers were so successful. He made good money off of his work, and it also allowed him to watch after Soojin. It was too difficult to find a preschool right for her; she was deaf, after all, and Myungjun liked to keep her close by in case any new developments arose in her health and behavior.

When Jinwoo poked his head in, he saw Soojin playing near one of the windows that faced the back alleyway. Myungjun always had a blanket out for her so she wouldn't ruin her nice clothes, and he brought various toys and books from home and simply kept them at the shop. She was easily entertained, and she never made too much of a fuss from spending all day inside with Myungjun.

Jinwoo bent down when he was close enough to the girl, catching her eye. She looked up and instantly smiled, bright and gummy, and Jinwoo chuckled as he swooped her into his arms.

Myungjun, fixing a display nearby, hurried over to the two of them, greeting Jinwoo warmly and plastering a smile on his own face, rivaling that of Soojin's. “Jinjin!” he said; he never did lose the nicknames. Jinwoo was eager to hear them, too. “I'm glad you're on time. I already put the _close_ sign at the front door.”

“I saw,” Jinwoo said, smoothing down Soojin's frizzy bangs. “Ooh, she might need a haircut soon, Junnie. She's starting to look a little frazzled with her hair like this.”

“I'll schedule her an appointment sometime this week,” Myungjun promised, and then he led Jinwoo over to the small table he had set up near the far end of the shop. They were surrounded by flowers, lost in their own makeshift world. Soojin in her high-chair made a few noises throughout lunch, occasionally interrupting Myungjun and Jinwoo as they talked. Neither of them ever minded, however. Jinwoo would usually giggle and wipe her chin of whatever food she had managed to spill on herself. He would kiss her cheek, too, resulting in a pure look of joy from his sweet daughter.

At one point, after cleaning up some more of her spilled food, Jinwoo glanced over at Myungjun, ready to ask him a question.

His husband stared at him fondly, his lips turned upwards and a distant look in his gaze.

“What are you thinking of, Myungjun?” Jinwoo asked, deciding to change his question.

“You,” Myungjun responded almost instantly. “Us. My family.” He sighed. “Remember when we met, Jinjin? Remember how young we were? Remember how unprepared for the world we've always been? Now...now look at us. You're a detective and I own this flower shop and we have two kids and I've not gone a day since our marriage without feeling so happy.”

Jinwoo remembered all the turmoil they were put through. He remembered his childhood, though it was hazy and fuzzy and the details had since disappeared. He remembered living on the streets, though his hardships suffered out there seemed worth it when he looked at his present life. He remembered Doyun, though the man's face was becoming easy to forget, and his voice was all but a mystery to Jinwoo now.

He had put his entire focus onto Myungjun, onto his family, onto his home. The difficulties in his past were no longer necessary for his future, and so his mind began to release them. He didn't wake often with nightmares of previous times. Perhaps, on rare occasion, he would have nightmares of what the future would hold; he was scared one of his children might be a magic user, or else someone would discover he was a witch, or even simple, normal things, such as not paying bills on time and having their large, countryside home taken from them.

But those were future concerns that probably would never come true, Myungjun reminded him. Myungjun, who suffered similar dreams, had all but to grab the picture from their bedside table of their family and look at it with Jinwoo.

Then, all that remained in memory was how much love they had for each other.

“We've come such a long way,” Jinwoo murmured. He reached a hand out, across the small, wooden table, and Myungjun grasped onto it. They held onto each other just like that, gazes soft as they stared into each others' eyes.

It had been such a long time since they had first met, since they had first fallen in love, but Jinwoo never once lost any of those feelings of adoration. Bin always joked that they seemed forever stuck in their honeymoon phase, and Jinwoo was certain that they really were. Even during small arguments and fights, Jinwoo had but to remember his intense love for the man before him, and things would work out just fine.

They were broken from their quiet vigil by the sound of gentle rain suddenly hitting the windows. Myungjun glanced over and sighed heavily before slumping over in his seat. He released Jinwoo's hand as he did so, groaning, “Of _course_ it had to rain right now! Now you'll get stuck in it, Jinjin.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “At least you have an umbrella.”

Jinwoo laughed. He reached over to fix one of Soojin's braids that had been coming undone, and he said, “Don't get mad at me, Junnie, but I left my umbrella at home.”

“Are you serious?” Myungjun sat up in his seat. “You'll get sick if you go out there without anything to block the rain.”

“I'm sure I'll be fine. Maybe I can do a spell of protection-”

“No. You don't like doing spells.” Myungjun hummed, then stood from his seat. “Take our umbrella,” he offered, reaching over to grab it.

“But then you and Soojin won't have-”

“You get off early today, right?” Myungjun asked. Jinwoo nodded his head, and Myungjun continued, “Come pick us up from work, then! We'll walk down to the bus stop together and wait for Woojin, then we can all go home.”

Jinwoo didn't need more prompting in order to spend extra time with his family. He liked the idea of picking up his husband and daughter from their work – adding Woojin on would complete their little circle, and even though it would be raining and miserable, Jinwoo looked forward to that opportunity.

Back at work, he sped through all the reports and papers he had to write and file. He interviewed one or two witnesses in a particular case, though nothing seemed to come out of either of them. Rather than feel disappointed, however, he decided that things would be fine. They would all work out, for better or for worse, and Jinwoo would make mistakes and learn from them. It was part of life, part of normalcy, part of being a human.

He bid his coworkers farewell for the weekend. They might have returned his goodbyes, but Jinwoo was already halfway out the door by then. The rain was coming down harder, and Jinwoo made sure to avoid all puddles so as to not ruin his nice pair of dress pants, the one Myungjun had bought him once Jinwoo was accepted as head detective.

At the flower shop, he saw Myungjun and Soojin waiting underneath the overhang. Soojin was wearing her rain coat, the one with ducklings all over it, and little, pink rain boots to save her feet from getting wet. Her eyes sparkled as she stared out over the dreary landscape before her. One small hand reached out to feel the rain pelt against her skin, and she squealed, loud and bright and so, so cheerful.

Jinwoo's heart felt like it could burst. It normally did, when he looked upon his family.

He rushed forward and smiled widely at Myungjun, who returned his grin tenfold. “Right on time,” Myungjun said, and he stepped out underneath the umbrella, Soojin right beside him.

They walked down the street all together. Soojin jumped in puddles beside her parents. Every so often, she accidentally splashed water against Jinwoo's pants, the ones he had tried his best to keep dry, but he didn't mind. He simply laughed and told Myungjun, “I might have to take these to the dry cleaners when we get back home from our trip.”

Myungjun tutted and asked, “Should I stop her?”

“Mm, let's not. Look how much fun she's having.”

She really seemed to be enjoying herself, and she gave high-pitched giggles from time to time. She hardly ever spoke; when she did, it was too garbled to make out clearly. However, these noises of joy and happiness were enough to properly convey her feelings, and Jinwoo felt such warmth spread through him, despite the chill in the rainy atmosphere.

They didn't have to wait for too long at the bus stop. Woojin's bus arrived relatively quickly, probably hurrying along to get out of the rain, and Jinwoo's son bounded off the bus with his tiny little umbrella over his head to protect him. He ran forward, greeting Myungjun and Jinwoo warmly, before bending down to his sister and signing _I love you_.

Soojin understood, laughing brightly, and signing it right back to him.

Jinwoo didn't know what good he had done in life to be blessed with such an amazing family. Filled to the brim with affection, he passed his umbrella to Myungjun and bent down to hug both of his children, who eagerly returned his embrace. “I love both of you,” he murmured, kissing Soojin's cheek in order to drive his point home. When he drew back, Woojin gave his own umbrella to Soojin, now that he was safe underneath his father's protection from the rain.

“We learned more about Japan today!” he exclaimed, and then, turning pleading eyes onto Myungjun, he asked, “Daddy, can we go to Japan? Dad said it was fine as long as you agreed.”

“Dad said...?” Myungjun glanced at Jinwoo. “Excuse me, Jinjin?”

“Woojin, you really _are_ a little traitor.” Jinwoo poked his son's side, smiling when Woojin giggled from the ticklish gesture. “I did _not_ say that. I said that maybe one day, if you wanted to, we'd all go together as a family trip.”

Myungjun pursed his lips in thought, then shrugged his shoulders. “One day,” he said, “maybe we _should_ go to Japan. It looks like such a pretty country.”

Woojin gasped and jumped up and down. “Yeah! Let's all go to Japan! Soojin, we're going to Japan!” He turned to his sister, signing out the word for _trip_ , and though Soojin clearly didn't understand, she still clapped her hands together, sharing Woojin's enthusiasm.

“ _One day_ , I said,” Myungjun reiterated, shaking his head at his son. “You really like to jump the gun, don't you, kid?”

They continued walking down the sidewalk, this time minding most of the puddles. Soojin, growing a little tired, reached her arms up, and Jinwoo eagerly moved to hold her. She rested against his shoulder, sighing softly into his ear as she watched the rain fall down to the earth. Beside him, Woojin kept talking, discussing all the different things he liked about Japan, asking if they could see his favorite cartoon characters if they were to visit the country.

And Myungjun, of course, to his other side, a constant presence in his life. Jinwoo wasn't sure if he could have gotten so far without Myungjun. Myungjun saved him, Myungjuned rescued him, and Myungjun continued to love him through thick and thin. It didn't matter if they were weary and tired from screaming toddlers or long nights of work. It didn't matter if they were stressed and worried from bills and loan payments. They were together, regardless of all that life tossed at them, and Jinwoo could rest easy with the knowledge that they would never again be apart.

After all, they were family.

After all, they were home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant believe this is finished. i've been working on the magic users series for well over a year now, and i feel like i never would've gotten tired of it. even writing this, i kept thinking of different things i could do to add more on, to make this entire series longer. but i think we need to bring it to a close for the moment. i need to put my focus on other things that i've been working on, and i can't do that if all i write is magic users! still, i would like to add on some oneshots, maybe; if i don't, i will pay someone else to continue this for me! saying goodbye to this fic, especially, is painful. home was one of my favorites to write. i got burned out in the middle, but i picked it back up and enjoyed myself toward the end, and im so so happy i stuck with it. i have no regrets with this series, and i hope you all have enjoyed reading it as much as i have enjoyed writing it!
> 
> pls stick around for more fics! i have a sci-fi one in collaboration with [snibnoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snibnoom/pseuds/snibnoom) that will be coming out tomorrow. I also am still finishing up _boo?_ , and i have another myungjin chaptered fic i'm writing (seven chapters in right now - it will end up being thirty chapters, though!). i hope you can all look forward to what else i have to offer. and, who knows? maybe one day i'll do that extra witchcraft multi-chaptered crime mystery with the entire gang i had been planning for months and months! we'll just have to wait and see!
> 
> come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter.com/nightmjare))!


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